The Legend of Dante, Part One
By Christian Saxton
He couldnt sleep. He tossed and he turned, the soft duck down mattress making no sound beneath him. The pillow beneath his head invited him to the land of nighttime reveries, but he was plagued by nightmares he could not explain. Horrible visions of flame and fleshnot his own, but that of his family. The smell stuck to the inside of his nostrils like a paste. It seeped up into his brain and corrupted his thoughts.
He had been only a child, maybe four years old, when it happened. He was sleeping peacefully on a stormy night. The wind blew hard that night, making their home in the trees creak and moan, but he remained quiet, taking no notice of the outside world. He didnt hear the leaves blowing through the cold autumn night. He didnt hear his mother down below, calling out for his father to come home. He didnt hear her screams as the cloaked mans axe ripped through her body as it would a through a tree. He couldnt hear the mans heavy footsteps as he went up the stairs or as the door burst open. He slept on.
Alterac was tired and weak. He had traversed the continent to find this thing, this tiny, powerless bundle that could keep him from power. He would not be stopped, could not be stopped now. He had the power. He pulled back the sleeves of his cloak and put his hands out in front of him, palms facing each other. Slowly, the chanting began. It was deep and guttural, the language of the ancients.
Pied esu dominee, donn eye est e requiem. His hands began to itch, and then burn as electricity jumped from one to the other. He was having difficulty maintaining his focus, the fatigue was taking over. Gradually, the electricity took shape. He forced it into a tightly packed ball just before his skin began to burn. A small wisp of smoke floated up and filled the air with that stinking scent.
A loud crack made Dantes eyes open wide. He rolled over and his eyes made contact with those of Alterac. His arms were raised high over his head and the orb was at least three times the size of his head. There was no remorse on the face of evil, merely a smirk of victory. He looked at the little blue-haired boy and laughed.
His arms came down at full speed, straight towards Dantes head, the crackling orb close in tow. Dante began to feel the heat on his face but suddenly, it stopped. The orb stood merely inches from the childs face, casting strange shadows across his face, but Alterac did not move. The look on his face had faded away and was replaced by a look of surprise, then of sorrow. He spun around to face the doorway. Dante then noticed the knife protruding from his back. The blade must have been six inches long, and was keenly aimed to penetrate Alteracs heart. The gutteral sounds uttered only moments ago became gurgles as he sank to the floor.
Dantes head turned to where Alteracs was facing. There, in the doorway, stood a man. He wa
Dante sat straight up. The dream was over. He listened to the air for a moment. There was someone outside.
(This message has been edited by moderator (edited 09-26-2002).)