The Snake-Dragon of the Aegiads
By
Jason C.
It was January in Samos. The
clouds came up across the bay—they massed blackly and then tore up the sky,
climbing vertically. The rains had persisted for six days, gusting along the
ramparts with relentless ferocity and flooding the small village. Heavy
rainfall was not totally uncommon here but this particular storm was a
different beast entirely: the sea port was sinking into the ocean, the bare
masts of abandoned vessels stuck up like tooth-picks, houses and buildings were
destroyed with the muddy waters rising up to waist level. Authorities had
implemented an evacuation plan by organizing the villagers to travel high up
into the Ampelos Mountains to seek refuge but others were stubbornly reluctant
to abandon their homes and crops. However, many simply refused to leave based
on the ancient myths surrounding those mountains: it was said to be cursed and
those brave enough to venture into its midst were never seen again.
Father Jerome stood outside of
his dilapidated monastery staring intensely down the ridge at the procession of
people making their ascent up the rocky cliffs. Handfuls of rain poured down on
him; he was drenched to the bone but remained completely indifferent to the
cold winds and smothering dampness. He grizzled face had the look of contempt
and indignation. Night was quickly approaching and he knew that the villagers would
have to stop and make camp very soon. After what seemed like hours, he was
surrounded by pitch darkness but could still see the dim flickering of torch
lights moving here and there like fireflies. He thought: This is impossible—they should
have perished by now, yet, seem determined and keep moving at a steadfast pace towards
the summit. But that would mean…
He turned hastily around and ran
back inside his small manse built of crumbling laterite brick. The tin-thatched
roof prevented most of the rain from leaking through but in spots that needed
repairs, he meticulously set up large clay pots to catch the dripping water. The
interior smelt like rotting leaves and was rather barren: a small bed in the
corner, kitchen area, writing desk, stone hearth, dusty bookcase. He took of
his soaking robes and swiftly moved towards the hearth to poke at the embers to
get the fire going. He then perused his bookcase until he found the heavy tomb
he was looking for: Δυστυχώς αυτό
είναι αργά.
He then took out a large silver pendant from around his neck that was shaped
like a snake-dragon, held it firmly and began to recite
an incoherent incantation from the book. A cloud of grey smoke began to swirl
violently around him and suddenly a small devilish fury with golden wings
appeared through the thick vaporous clouds. His pupils were fully dilated and rolling
back into his skull as he spoke to the creature: “The Oath-breaker approaches
Limia. The river Lethe is no longer safe. Warn the goddess immediately."
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