Foretold Memories

Chapter Twenty Five

The sound of clacking tongues and gurgling stomachs permeate the air as dark shadows ascend into the grey sky with a flutter of wings from bare, winter trees.

A man appears in the centre of the forest clearing with a snapping of leather and skin.

His body marred with twisted scars and burns.

With no visible weapon, I keep my own undrawn, respecting the silent agreement to at least attempt civil conversation.

I inspect the rest of his body, clad in black leather, similar to my own attire, but unlike I, he wears a patched brown skin coat while I allow the frosty wind to whip at my skin. I inspect the rough stitching of each pelt of skin that creates the billowing piece of clothing. I watch it catch within the wind, swirling in an undulating mass of light Browns and dark blacks. The crude craftsmanship of such a quality piece fascinates me like a magnet attracting a paper lip.

"Mead" I nod in greeting to the man who murdered my parents and stole what should have been the happiest years of my life.

Greeted with clear eyes and a drowning silence, I draw the sword Ambrose gifted to me only hours before, sensing a swirl of deceit within the pits of my stomach as tension thickens the air.

The sword vibrates within my grip, filling my veins with an essence of solace as its light resonates within me, opening a well of power to draw from.

The sharp sound of sword on scabbard, draws Meads attention as he tilts his head in impassive inquisitiveness.

His blank eyes and emotionless demeanour temporarily rises a fury within me.

"Why are you allowed to haunt me?" I swing my sword in a downward arc to test its balance and weight.

"Why are you allowed to be my maker? My creator?" Feeling a flare for the dramatics, I centre myself and begin a fluent dance with my sword.

I guide my power through the air creating a mural of fading wisps of light. A dance of flesh and metal, metal and light, flesh and power. All pure elements created by core instincts built deep within my bones.

"How, are you, the sole influence within my life that guided me to become the woman that stands before you. How do you deserve that pleasure? That knowledge of which you have stolen from my parents? That pride in which my father should have felt, the love my mother should feel."

I conclude by staking the tip of the silver blade into the packed ground, sending a ripple through the earth.

I watch the man before me, "Why you?" I growl with a guttural force.

Mead raises his hand in silent command. The trembling earth meets my ripples and soon mingles to become large tremors, as the air fills with the clicking and scraping of chitinous claws.

I brace myself with my sword and stand firm against the shaking ground and prepare myself for what lurks within the shadowed foliage.

A large beast reveals itself from the tree line behind Mead. It's mouth widens to emit a crackling hiss, like dead leaves over dry stone. Two elongated teeth glint off the moons light, revealing them to be somewhat akin to a pythons. The pair are set amongst a flurry of smaller, sharper ones.

A pungent purple liquid that coats the creatures fangs and swells in the pits of its jaws, falls to the ground in large pellets of liquid that make the last patches of grass that survived the winter frost, shrivel.

The beasts snowy fur, is barely recognisable, save a few patches of scraggly fur atop its neck and head. The rest of its body is a matted mass of wolf fur encompassing the physique of one, twice the size of a polar bear.