"This looks like pee." said Saladin, firmly, pushing the cup away.
"Such a fool," said the small man, through his rotten, wreaking teeth.
"It smells like pee."
"This is milk from the Golden Calf of the Hebrews!" said the man, as though offended.
"The Golden Calf produces golden milk?" The old man nodded, smiling maniacally. He pushed the cup toward the boy.
"One tiny sip and your bones will turn to metal, impenetrable and unrelenting against whatever may assualt your body!"
"Since when does a statue suddenly become milkable?!" Saladin demanded.
I'm not sure what comes after that...but it was just a thought that popped into my head...and I had to get it out.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Bronze and the Hag.
Bronze stood below the beautifully painted ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, staring up at it with a smile. The sword at his belt gave a little shake and the ground shuddered. A bit of dust drifted down from the marble archway and landed on the hard, cool floor. He turned around to face the exit. The center doors flew open and crashed into the wall, ripping one off its hinges. It slammed onto the floor with a loud bang. Bronze peered through the cloud of dust that had formed and saw a dark shape at the opening. Moon beams cut through the darkness as they streamed into the great church through the tall, elegant windows. The figure stepped forward, out of the dust and into a stream of light, revealing herself to be a mad looking, hunched woman, garbed in a long black dress and a dark silk shawl that wrapped around her shoulders. In her mangled untidy hair, a pair of dead roses, their frail petals clinging to the stem, seemed to keep the mess at least modestly tame. Her arms fell at her sides after the force needed to wrench the doors apart was no longer needed.
"THOUGHT YOU COULD HIDE, HERE DID YOU?" she screeched. Bronze took a step toward her. Her cry echoed off the stone walls and the high ceilings. It traveled between the columns and dug into his ears leaving a tingling and an unpleasant burning.
"What do you want, Thorn?" he asked, in his deep voice. His sneakers gave a small squeak on the smooth floor.
"Oh, you haven't figured it out yet?" she asked snidely.
"Well, it's obvious you want me dead" he replied, with fire in his tongue. He rested his hand steadily on the sword at his hip. The ragged woman entered the chapel. The cold stone floor began to crack and splinter under her feet. She began to laugh at this, with an unpleasant cackle that would have sucked all the humor from the room had there actually been any.
"I missed you in Bern, little one," she said, twisting her hair around her crooked finger. She ripped a few strands out and tossed them at him. As soon as the hairs left her hand, they became rigid and flew across the floor at him. Bronze dove out of the way and they slammed into the stone column behind him. The rock exploded, sending bits of stone flying.
"Seems not much has changed since," the woman said, nonchalantly. "No problem, though. I don't see much of a way out of this place for you." Bronze climbed to his feet and drew his sword.
"I can still go through you," he said, raising the point. The woman smiled, and took a few steps closer.
"There it is." she said, through her rotting teeth. "There's that fighting spirit I've heard so much about." Her hair began to stand on end, as if she'd walked around on a great fuzzy carpet in nothing but a pair of wool socks. A soft crackling began to emanate from her and small beams of electricity traveled up from her scalp. "Let's see how you hold up against this." She bent her knees, raising her hands high over her head. The static climbed up her arms and wound itself into a pair of tight balls at her fists. Bronze held his sword in front of his face and she launched a vehement volley of lightning at him. The bolts coursed into the sword, which slowly became hot in his hand. He dared not drop it, but instead squeezed more tightly at the pain which began to travel up his arm.
"Give it up, boy!" she shouted, intensifying her attack. "We've been through this before!" Moving his second hand onto the sword's handle, Bronze managed to deflect the assault and leapt behind one of the tall marble columns. The lightning stopped and a loud crack of thunder shook the stone walls. Bronze flailed his blistering hands in the cool air, trying to soothe them. He looked out from behind the column and saw the woman, still standing in the middle of the hall.
"Oh, come now," she said, annoyedly. She began to walk toward the column. "You tried this in London and it got you nowhere." Bronze looked to the window on the far side of the Chapel and noticed two dark shapes pass by the glass. He smiled to himself.
"It's about time," he said under his breath. He watched intently as the shapes swung past the windows unknown to to the frazzled woman pursuing him.
"Where are your sisters?" he asked, trying to buy some time.
"Oh they're around somewhere." she said, lazily. "Honestly it's hard to keep track of them all the time. What about your little friends?" she asked, and static leapt from her hair.
"They wanted to talk to the Coliseum." Bronze replied. "Can't be in Rome without seeing that! Maybe they ran into your sisters."
"Oh, I don't think so," the witch answered. She flung a small bolt at the stone shaft. Bronze leapt, thrusting off the base and took refuge behind a different column, while his hiding place exploded. "We've already seen it." He put his back to the stone surface, still cold without his touch to warm it. He turned his head toward the windows. The foul woman began to creep toward him again.
"Why don't you come out and play?" she sneered. She readied another static charge and tossed it from one hand to the other, like a baseball.
"I was never really big on Hide and Go Seek as a kid," said Bronze, gripping his sword again.
"What about Kill the Carrier?" called a new voice. The witch wheeled around, her hair back on end, and to her fury, two more men stood in the door way, silhouettes against the brightness of the moon. She screamed and launched another barrage of static. The surge flew toward the men, but they leapt out of the path, into the chapel, narrowly dodging the powerful bolts as they exploded into the square. Thunder cracked again, and the men leapt to their feet. They drew their swords, one, a beautiful, curved shamshir and the other, of the same design as Bronze's. The witch screamed at the top of her lungs, but no words formed. The windows shattered and shards of colorful glass rained down onto the floor, joining the dust that had finally settled. The scream brought her to her knees and a trickle of blood began to dribble from the corner of her mouth, but she continued until she could no longer stand it. She looked up, wiping her mouth, in a small crater where she had sunk into the floor to her ankles. She panted, but did not attack, as if waiting. The trio surrounded her, but still, she did nothing.
"Always nice to go out with a bang," said Saladin, raising his shamshir. The other two raised their swords, poised to strike when another sound, apart from the woman's heavy breathing came. A pair of screams pierced the boys' ears and they froze. They backed away and covering their ears to block the blood curdling cacophony. To the left, a woman with silvering blond hair floated through the window, clad in the same, dark, mangled, aged garb as the first woman and to the right, a woman much the same save for the fiery strands of red growing from her scalp drifted in, narrowly missing the jagged edges around the broken frame. They landed softly on the floor, their dresses flowing around their ankles.
"How about a little three-on-three?" said the redhead.
"THOUGHT YOU COULD HIDE, HERE DID YOU?" she screeched. Bronze took a step toward her. Her cry echoed off the stone walls and the high ceilings. It traveled between the columns and dug into his ears leaving a tingling and an unpleasant burning.
"What do you want, Thorn?" he asked, in his deep voice. His sneakers gave a small squeak on the smooth floor.
"Oh, you haven't figured it out yet?" she asked snidely.
"Well, it's obvious you want me dead" he replied, with fire in his tongue. He rested his hand steadily on the sword at his hip. The ragged woman entered the chapel. The cold stone floor began to crack and splinter under her feet. She began to laugh at this, with an unpleasant cackle that would have sucked all the humor from the room had there actually been any.
"I missed you in Bern, little one," she said, twisting her hair around her crooked finger. She ripped a few strands out and tossed them at him. As soon as the hairs left her hand, they became rigid and flew across the floor at him. Bronze dove out of the way and they slammed into the stone column behind him. The rock exploded, sending bits of stone flying.
"Seems not much has changed since," the woman said, nonchalantly. "No problem, though. I don't see much of a way out of this place for you." Bronze climbed to his feet and drew his sword.
"I can still go through you," he said, raising the point. The woman smiled, and took a few steps closer.
"There it is." she said, through her rotting teeth. "There's that fighting spirit I've heard so much about." Her hair began to stand on end, as if she'd walked around on a great fuzzy carpet in nothing but a pair of wool socks. A soft crackling began to emanate from her and small beams of electricity traveled up from her scalp. "Let's see how you hold up against this." She bent her knees, raising her hands high over her head. The static climbed up her arms and wound itself into a pair of tight balls at her fists. Bronze held his sword in front of his face and she launched a vehement volley of lightning at him. The bolts coursed into the sword, which slowly became hot in his hand. He dared not drop it, but instead squeezed more tightly at the pain which began to travel up his arm.
"Give it up, boy!" she shouted, intensifying her attack. "We've been through this before!" Moving his second hand onto the sword's handle, Bronze managed to deflect the assault and leapt behind one of the tall marble columns. The lightning stopped and a loud crack of thunder shook the stone walls. Bronze flailed his blistering hands in the cool air, trying to soothe them. He looked out from behind the column and saw the woman, still standing in the middle of the hall.
"Oh, come now," she said, annoyedly. She began to walk toward the column. "You tried this in London and it got you nowhere." Bronze looked to the window on the far side of the Chapel and noticed two dark shapes pass by the glass. He smiled to himself.
"It's about time," he said under his breath. He watched intently as the shapes swung past the windows unknown to to the frazzled woman pursuing him.
"Where are your sisters?" he asked, trying to buy some time.
"Oh they're around somewhere." she said, lazily. "Honestly it's hard to keep track of them all the time. What about your little friends?" she asked, and static leapt from her hair.
"They wanted to talk to the Coliseum." Bronze replied. "Can't be in Rome without seeing that! Maybe they ran into your sisters."
"Oh, I don't think so," the witch answered. She flung a small bolt at the stone shaft. Bronze leapt, thrusting off the base and took refuge behind a different column, while his hiding place exploded. "We've already seen it." He put his back to the stone surface, still cold without his touch to warm it. He turned his head toward the windows. The foul woman began to creep toward him again.
"Why don't you come out and play?" she sneered. She readied another static charge and tossed it from one hand to the other, like a baseball.
"I was never really big on Hide and Go Seek as a kid," said Bronze, gripping his sword again.
"What about Kill the Carrier?" called a new voice. The witch wheeled around, her hair back on end, and to her fury, two more men stood in the door way, silhouettes against the brightness of the moon. She screamed and launched another barrage of static. The surge flew toward the men, but they leapt out of the path, into the chapel, narrowly dodging the powerful bolts as they exploded into the square. Thunder cracked again, and the men leapt to their feet. They drew their swords, one, a beautiful, curved shamshir and the other, of the same design as Bronze's. The witch screamed at the top of her lungs, but no words formed. The windows shattered and shards of colorful glass rained down onto the floor, joining the dust that had finally settled. The scream brought her to her knees and a trickle of blood began to dribble from the corner of her mouth, but she continued until she could no longer stand it. She looked up, wiping her mouth, in a small crater where she had sunk into the floor to her ankles. She panted, but did not attack, as if waiting. The trio surrounded her, but still, she did nothing.
"Always nice to go out with a bang," said Saladin, raising his shamshir. The other two raised their swords, poised to strike when another sound, apart from the woman's heavy breathing came. A pair of screams pierced the boys' ears and they froze. They backed away and covering their ears to block the blood curdling cacophony. To the left, a woman with silvering blond hair floated through the window, clad in the same, dark, mangled, aged garb as the first woman and to the right, a woman much the same save for the fiery strands of red growing from her scalp drifted in, narrowly missing the jagged edges around the broken frame. They landed softly on the floor, their dresses flowing around their ankles.
"How about a little three-on-three?" said the redhead.
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