^ 12, actually.
I might just be thick, but could you give me an example of the incorrect word usage? I scanned through it, and it seems for the most part correct.\
I'll post the next chapter, I want to see if the problem is prevalent throughout the fic. The prologue was written seperately from the rest of the chapters.
Rediscovery
Book I: First Traces
Chapter 1
A looming mountain stood up against a bloody sky, its gaping mouth thick with smoke. Morbid views provoked the viewers’ imagination; all around the shattered dagger of flame, only desolation could be seen. The volcano stuck out of what had once obviously been a desert, but it had now gone beyond wasteland and could be only described as a very branch of hell. Black, craggy outgrowths fed upon the lakes of industrial effluent, smoking with the same toxicity as their grisly fodder. The hardiest organisms had already vanished from the infection, and disease had fed upon disease, eliminating each other. Yet one’s attention was drawn irresistibly to the dark, fiery doom amidst it all, leaking magma in silent slobbers. Among the pillars of smoke which it vomited out, two of the only signs of life circled each other.
One was a whirlwind of cold steel, the perfect literal embodiment of death in flight. It glided and dove, cutting through the smoky haze in deathly silent spirals, spelling certain death for all who came in its path. Its steely blades danced a macabre dance, spinning all around it, stirring the air into a cyclone of razor wind. Through all its swift violence, however, subtlety was not lost upon the cold figure: no sound of rippling air could be detected; not an air of movement emanated from his wraithlike profile. Before him glided something completely different. It was a serpentine figure, radiating an ethereal glow which allowed its full appearance to be displayed through the smog. A single horn protruded out of a dragonlike head, flanked by two feathered embodiments of the wind itself. Underneath the subtle snout was a cobalt orb, which seemed to glow as if from another world. Its long, graceful tail was topped with a combination of two more such orbs as those beneath the head; it gave off the same cyan radiance as the shades of the entire body seemed to symbolize. The two creatures cut corkscrews around each other, varying their paths rhythmically in a frenetic death dance, calculating as they searched for their opening. The two came to a final rest at either end of the volcano’s rim.
A sudden zephyr blew back the smoke.
“Decessus.”
“Pegasus.”
“We meet again.”
In an instant, the Skarmory and Dragonair fell upon each other, as, behind them, a blazing wall of flame roared up from its fiery depths. The fighters were enveloped in a lethal womb, trapped beneath a dome of lava which hungered for their fiery demise, but they took no notice of it as deadly talon met otherworldly flame. This was no poor man’s brawl; few physical offenses ever hit their mark. At a level such as this, tactics were fundamental. The opponents converged and diverged, meeting together with a clash of metal before backing yet again to the crimson-saffron wall behind them.
Decessus’ metallic wits had not dulled any more that his razor blades, and he instantly understood the gravity of the situation. Keeping a rhythm while battling was one of the most perilous experiments, as the first one to break the rhythm would be at a gross advantage. He also knew, however, that this very fact was not lost on Pegasus, who had already come on his guard, increasing his agility and bracing for impact at the same time. He positioned the blades on his crimson wings for attack as blatantly as possible, deliberately blowing his façade, as he continued his rhythm, and saw to his satisfaction that Pegasus immediately noted this.
He zoomed yet again to their meeting point, determined, as Pegasus began erecting barriers before him in anticipation. Decessus would require speed for this, and thus, he agitated the atoms within his body, elevating himself to a new plane of time, and as he raised his claw, time itself seemed to slow down. The death-bird stretched his blade as far as he could manage, seeing Pegasus’ eyes darken in expectancy, and he brought it down with all his might, a supersonic apparition of acute reality. His wing-blade whipped through the air, farther and farther down…
Nanoseconds before it reached Pegasus, a flash of smoke enveloped it, and Decessus was gone.
Even sooner, a blade of cold death split Pegasus’ unprotected back.
The Umbreon’s feint. It was an ancient trick which the Skarmory had learnt long ago, and it was rather simplistic, unless one could twist it to his advantage. Decessus had done the same, but he was nevertheless mildly surprised at Pegasus’ foolishness. He had been known to commit such mistakes before, there was no doubt of that. Yet Decessus could not shake the feeling of faint foreboding.
With unspoken order, the two began to circle each other, pausing at strategic intervals for a fraction of a second, until it seemed to any viewer that there were, in fact, eight fighters, not two, by a trick of persistent vision. Yet this was no trick; in less than a minute, there were now four wavering copies of each opponent, none sporting any form of identifying mark. This battle was being fought with (as the more technical may say) high risk, high return.
As each copy of Decessus flew after a Pegasus duplicate, a ghostly mist began to descend into every nook and cranny of the chamber, bright golden and fiery beyond compare. It burnt into hide and poisoned the blood; it penetrated every barrier in its frantic efforts at causing as much damage as possible. The dragonfire did not come in vain; three Skarmory copies had already begun to lose their opacity, and, as they dug their illusory talons into their respective counterparts, all three pairs shook violently and burst into a million wisps of frail smoke.
The fourth Decessus, however, had endured more than that, and, repelling the fire, instantly begin to shoot a multitude of five-pointed stars, impacting unavoidably with Pegasus’ midriff and leaving angry red marks where they fell. The dragonbreath instantly dispersed, its source momentarily incapacitated.
Decessus wasted no moment; he rushed to Pegasus and tore at his sensitive skin with a frantic succession of slashes, throwing caution to the winds. Every gash he opened elicited a horrible cry from the Dragonair, but Decessus took no notice of the streaks of crimson staining his flawless steel blades or the pathetic vulnerability in which he had left himself. He was wrapped in the thrill of battle, quenching a blood thirst more feral than anything yet seen, and he had never felt a feeling more acutely satisfying. The Skarmory was fiery death incarnate; he was enveloped in an inferno of pure feeling; consequence and worry had evaporated like a storm cloud in a windy sky, and what matter was it that his opponent had begun glowing intense crimson…?
Before he could register reality, the Skamory was ruthlessly blown away like a rag doll. His head began swimming, his vision blurry, and every vein in his body filled with such pain as he had never felt before. As he struggled to resume reality, an intense cyan light blinded him, and he was forced to close his eyes yet again. His very mind screamed in protest as he forced it to work; but finally he regained mental focus, if not physical control.
The rage of a dragon, as he would (
the pain) have instantly seen had he maintained his guard, was no (
please just let me die and escape this fire) child’s play, but this had been a very unusual case. Pegasus had (
this agony is too much) evidently released his fury in a massive inferno, as dragons were apt to do, and he had no choice but to hover in the greatest fire storm in history, enduring beyond endurance an unbearable agony.
At last, it ended, releasing Decessus, who plunged twenty feet into the volcano’s core and his own exhaustion before overcoming his fatigue.
The Skarmory charged at his opponent in restless determination, as the Dragonair opened his mouth in a feral snarl, reddish flame licking at the back of his throat; but before the first shreds of panic could dawn on Decessus’ face, the radiation from Pegasus’ cyan orbs flickered, and the dragon’s grace faltered, forcing him to swoop uncontrollably down before zooming in chaotic, disoriented swirls. Pegasus’ flames misfired; his weak attempts at offense came down upon him, confusing him even more. After such events, as Decessus was glad to see, a dragon would unfailingly lose his wits for some time. It seemed to be that the Skarmory’s opponent had placed the fate of the entire battle upon his rampage. How… foolish.
Decessus shot more luminous stars at the pitiable dragon, watching lazily as they tossed Pegasus about like a cloth. His logical self stared in disbelief; Decessus, the Razor Wit, was playing with his opponent, leaving room for error. What had the world come to?
What is the worst that could happen? he asked himself, fully reassured by the wretch before him, flailing hopelessly about. Yet, despite his efforts, there was something wrong. As Decessus turned lax, lowering his guard, some primordial alarm seemed to go off inside his head; he simply hovered there, his confidence descending into doubt, deepening into discomfort and even
terror, as the silence stretched on…
Within an instant, the writhing serpent became a flash of white light, burying itself into the tiny gap between two of Decessus’ scales, knocking the breath out of him.
Pegasus had performed the Swellow’s Dart, the greatest maneuver ever managed by a wind rider, and despite those kinds of moves being ineffective to his type, Decessus was literally blown away by the impact. Perhaps it had been the hours of training which Pegasus had done in his private quarters – how Decessus knew of this was beyond most – or the element of utter surprise he had gained and handled so well, which had given him such power. In any case, the battle would not last long now – Decessus would make sure of it.
Decessus spread apart his wings, releasing millions of tiny shards of metal which embedded themselves into Pegasus’ body; great spheres of flame shot out at deadly speed, whipping through the air like a thousand lethal will-o-wisps; cold fury clashed with infernal wrath in a fearsome death match, as pillars of fire and razors of steel ripped through the air with not a shred of order. Every miniscule falter was taken advantage of, and every movement had a purpose. Discord was no longer a looming fear; it had come, and it would end only with demise. And through it all, molten lava roared up all around them with increasing ferocity, making a perfect arc before landing on the opposite side, caging them within an altering dome –
Suddenly, an impossible idea struck Decessus’ mind. It was such a task – and yet, if he managed it, the outcome would be swift and complete…
Finally, he was decided. Erecting barriers around himself, he harnessed the power of his element, and made the necessary alterations within the metal traces in the lava above them. Gathering nuggets of molten steel, Decessus began to remotely form an impenetrable formation, oblivious to the confusion around him. A minor twist here, and another there… and finally he was done. Every fibre of his being thrumming with excitement, he placed his creation precisely where it was needed –
A great pillar of lava diverted from its course and fell upon Pegasus, moving faster than light to meet its prey. Before anything could be registered, the dome was filled with miasmas of oddly milky smog, blinding Decessus. Odd cyan lights seemed to flare out from all around him, placing him in utter confusion. He could yet hear a great struggle ensuing somewhere, and, finally, it was silent.
As the mist cleared, Decessus saw a sight which he had never seen before. All around him, droplets of cold, lucid
water were pouring from seemingly nowhere, rushing to their doom in the lava chamber below. The rain seemed to be thinning, but the job was done.
The dome of roaring flame above them had become a hemisphere of red-hot rock, and the pillar assaulting Pegasus had mimicked the dome. There was confused silence for a few moments, and then, with a resounding BOOM, the pillar blew apart, revealing a shaken but unharmed Pegasus.
Of course! How could he have forgotten? A Dragonair’s greatest strength was his mastery of the weather. Pegasus’ cobalt orbs had instinctively done something which even Decessus could not have conceived.
Pegasus turned to Decessus. He seemed prepared to commit a great maneuver, but the silence seemed to stretch on, as Decessus’ fears seemed to do the same. What was it that he would see? He knew it was dangerous to intervene.
A low hum resounded across the acoustic dome, multiplying and amplifying, until it seemed to be a many-headed entity, looming up just out of sight, yet seeming all the more dangerous all the same. Decessus felt pure adrenaline flood his veins like liquid flame, as he rose up in anticipation and dread; suddenly –
- a low thud wracked the volcano, as Pegasus’ figure shook violently, every atom threatening to destabilize in an awe-inspiring explosion; Decessus understood instantly, effecting his countermeasures.
THUD.
A wavering, invisible thread of shadow wound itself around the two opponents, a mournful dirge speaking of loss and despair and cold-hearted vengeance, stretching across space and time and the very boundaries of mortality –
THUD.
More threads complemented this, guiding it, controlling it, weaving a requiem symphony which bound the two inextricably together…
THUD.
A final strand secured the connection, a slithering abyss of pure, hateful shadow, trapping Pegasus like a spider traps its prey –
BOOM.
Decessus felt an irresistible tug, and, as Pegasus flew like a zooming arrow around their volatile battlefield, he was pulled along, past the shattered pillar of stone, through the lava tunnel, through the faint pop of the sonic boom, into the acidic air outside the volcano and back in through another spidery duct, into a dreamlike doom spiral around their prison, and, as Pegasus halted, exhausted, Decessus slammed into his fatigued body, binding him in the despairing chains of shadow which had pulled them together, delivering a blow more terrible than any his wings could have given –
Decessus glided triumphantly as his opponent’s lifeless body fell into the lava chamber, swallowed by fiery death.
His vision began to waver; out of the corner of his eye, objects began to lose colour and even shape, and then suddenly –
- He was standing, winded but thoroughly exhilarated, in a navy blue room, the excited face of a Persian looking in from the only Plexiglas window to his right. As Decessus exited the Virtual Reality room, the Persian spoke. The tone was unmistakably female, but it had some deepness and boldness in it.
“Congratulations, sir! As far as we know, you’ll be ready to fight him the next time you face your rival.”
“Thank you, Ardis,” said Decessus; “I see that our technicians have loaded the creativity engines. I certainly did not expect VR Pegasus’ last trick.”
“Oh, yes,” Ardis replied, stroking her long whiskers pleasantly, as if Decessus had given her a personal compliment. “This will most likely be the first of many enhancements to come. By the way, sir, are you sure you want to keep the pain processors on? It looked pretty nasty out ther - ”
But Decessus’ eyes flashed dangerously, and Ardis quickly stopped. She wasn’t foolish.
“I do not fear pain, Ardis, I am sure you’ve understood that. I sent a team of Sableye to search for the Gem in the desert of Narkesa. How are tidings?”
“Well, sir, they haven’t reported yet, but I’ll contact them.”
Ardis pawed up the metallic floor to a chrome fixture attached to the wall, her curved tail raised high behind her. The ruby-red charm on her forehead glowed briefly, and a few buttons depressed themselves, initiating a hologram in the middle of the large room walled with monitors and control panels. A very odd creature appeared, dark purple, with literal diamond eyes. He spoke in a sneaky, underhand voice.
“Hey, boss,” the Sableye said, his pointed, double ears twitching, “what’s up?”
“Do you have any leads?” Decessus asked, emotionless as always, though he burned with anticipation inside.
His Cheshire grin widened, until it threatened to rip apart his wide, pointed face. “Oh, you won’t believe me when I tell you, that’s how big it is. Yes, sir, we have a lead!
“You see, the moment we got here, we knew there was something here. It’s the kind of thing only a Sableye can sniff out, you know what I mean?”
“Yes, I understand that foul creatures like you have your equally foul means. Continue.”
The Sableye’s maniacal grin slid off his face, then came back on, just as quickly. “Well, sir, we found what seems to be a whole mine of diamonds! Sparkling, fully cut gems, as far as the eye can see! And we
can see pretty far, mind you – but anyway, in the very middle, there was a great big emerald with something written on it.”
“What was it?” Decessus said sharply, his patience failing.
“It was really small, and it was written in some other language, far as we know, but the symbols were legible. Still, the amount of bother we had, trying to figure out what it said – “
“What was it?” Decessus repeated, a bit louder.
“It was apparently a poem. We got the first words,
Earcken libris verita or something like that. No idea whether it’s the secret of the universe or some yarn about a Trickster with a bag of bones. Well, I’ll leave you two masterminds to figure it out. Later, boss!”
And at that, the hologram vanished, leaving the room to sink into silence.
“Proven shall be the worth of the seeker,” Ardis translated, her voice a perfect contrast of their visitor.
BTW, guys, don't compare me to Naphe, at least. You should
recollact the commisions of your acuaintaces.
Discord
Light Style