The Dragon's Blood (Part 86)
During which we return to Fafnir's past...
86
The Time of Legends
Trakaan Astranax, the being later named Fafnir by the children of man, sank beneath the waves of the unnamed river. He was numb, the great gash in his underside already beginning to heal, though not quite fast enough to slow the bleeding.
He watched it curiously through his rapidly blurring vision, the blood, watched as it spread and headed off on it's own dark mission.
Would the river kill it? Would it kill what she'd done to him? Or would it spread for the whole of the world to taste what awaited within Andvari's gold?
It was leaving him at least, taking with it his lifeblood. It poured out of him in a torrent, mixing with the raging river water, leaving him hollowed out. With it went that anger, that great all encompassing fury that had so utterly consumed him since the first time he'd laid eyes on the that wretched pile. With it went that need to destroy, to kill all that laid their own eyes upon it. With it went the need to burn and lay to waste any who might be too close to breathe the same air he did. With it went his life.
Or so he thought...
As he sank, his eyes watching the black blood that gushed out from within him, he caught through it another shape. It was long and sinewy just as he was, with dull copper scales that his powerful eyes saw clearly even in this darkness. It cut through the torrent for him, glowing yellow eyes illuminating the darkness before it.
Through the numbness that was becoming more and more difficult to fight, he felt strong arms grab at his shoulders and lift him. Then he was rising, whoever had come, dragging him up, up, towards the light of day.
With the chilling explosion of sensation that came with his surfacing, he felt himself begin to let go. He'd be going now, whether to a final sleep or a temporary one, he didn't know, nor did he care.
Before he went though, before this latest darkness took him, he wanted one look at this newcomer, this intruder. So he turned his head, fighting with what little he'd left to see the copper skinned Dragon that swam next to him, dragging him towards a not too distant rocky shore, the ruins of his desolation further beyond.
It was a she, and she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, glorious and long.
His last thoughts before the blackness finally did claim victory was a pondering of how long it had been since he'd noticed beauty.
*****
He dreamed of his brother, Reginmus, dreamed of his laughter, his eyes when they'd both seen their father first claim Andvari's Gold. There was murder there, as there had been in his own, he was soon to discover. Murder and destruction for them all.
Then there was a human child, small and pathetic, and she was there amid Andvari's, in her hands a little leather bag full of marbles, human playthings. She whispered in his ear, filling him with envy and rage for the whole of the world. She filled him until he could take it no more, his fire threatening to explode from within him.
Then it was his father he saw, not the great warrior that had raised them, had taught them the arts of combat, but the crumpled dead thing he and Reginmus had left him as. His chest nothing but a gaping hole, his great horned head hanging from threads of skin, he turned to his son, his glowing eyes still alight with their flame.
“Beware the Gods, son, for this is their doing. Beware the son of the Frost Giant. Beware Loki.”
And he woke, finding himself in another cavern, smaller than his own, smaller but not small by any estimate, no not at all.
He tried to move, tried to see around him, to find his benefactor, but it was too much, far too much and down he went again, back into the blackness.
*****
He was sinking again. His blood leaving him all over again, spreading all about him. She was there again, but this time she came out from within him, hundreds of her, all tiny with straw yellow hair. They spread out all about his sinking form, his blood and her body one and the same. Then they dispersed, all of them, thousands of little human girls with their leather bags filled to the brim with marbles swimming outward like little tadpoles. Out into the cold world they went, out to spread their seed.
He watched them go numbly, his children they were, all of them.
*****
End Part 85
If you find yourself interested in the whole damnedable thing and wanna throw me a few bucks, here's a link to it on Amazon.
It's very interesting story!!
Great job dear @profanarky :)
:)