Jiggity wrote:The boy stared at it.
It stared back.
The silence lingered, stretched taut. Neither of them said anything; the boy was too terrified to think and with good reason. The creature was seven feet tall, (with) shaggy black hair that snarled its way down its back and tawny gold eyes that gleamed (how about "gleaming tawny eyes"? It's a little more succint). Its skin was a dead grey and it was wearing nothing but torn black trousers and a leather trench coat. Its long, iron nails were bathed in blood.
It was crouched only a few feet from where it had dropped him.
Mikhail was trying very hard not to breathe loudly, or move, or do anything at all. Suddenly, the creature’s head snapped up, nostrils flared and it sprung away, vanishing around the corner. It took a while for [s]his [/s]("Mikhail's" - what with all the "its" and "hims" flying around, this could get confusing lol) heart to slow down, for the terror to slowly abate. He wasn’t going to die, not yet. He heard the massive titanium door screech backward and [s]a[/s] slam, [s]indicating it was shut[/s]. (A little unnecessary, I think...)
His breath steamed in the air and he shivered, holding his thin legs close to his body. There wasn’t much room to move, so he took the chance to study his new surroundings. It was a simple dwelling of brick and wood, with few rooms and even less furnishing. There was an odd, musky smell in the air. From what he could see, it had the look of an abandoned hovel; the carpet had been ripped out and the floor was little more than hard-packed earth.
There was a small wooden table between him and the wall, a few scattered
boxes and a large armchair with most of the stuffing still intact. He stared at it, wondering what it would be like to sit in its comfortable embrace. He didn’t dare get up though; he knew his captor would not be far away.
It was dark and there was little light to see by,(period, new sentence) [s]only [/s] (Only) the slightest sliver of moonlight speared through the tiny window above. The longer Mikhail had to wait, the more nervous he became – What if the creature didn’t come back and left him here to die? He bit his lip, wondering and fretting. Unable to sit still any longer, he jumped up and grabbed a box, dragging it over to the wall. He stepped on it, using his new height to peer out the window.
He was surrounded by unfamiliar shapes, half-rotted and crumbled buildings. If not for the moonlight he wouldn’t be able to see even that. There were street lamps, but none of them were lit. This, more then anything else, brought home just how far he’d been brought (This sounds kind of strange and redundant...consider revising it.). In the main City, not even one street went unlit, not at any time. To venture into darkness would be to invite death, even at his age he knew that. He could see the tall and varied building structures of the main City in the distance, towering into the sky, glowing with the light of a million trapped fireflies. Or so it seemed to him; those lights were in fact powered by massive generators beneath the ground. As he stared out at it, wondering, rain started to sprinkle down and a gentle pitter-patter sound began.
Mikhail was doing his best to avoid thinking of what he’d seen earlier this night, of his capture and the failed operation to trap the creature. It was too much, too soon. But he was fast running out of other things to think about. Even as this thought occurred to him, he heard a slight hiss from behind him. He almost missed it, what with the rain outside, but just then he turned his head fractionally and caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. He flung himself around, heart beating wildly, and pressed his back against the wall. His weak eyes, so used to light, tried to pierce the increasing gloom.
Eventually, the snake gave itself away by hissing and moving forward. Mikhail’s eyes widened and his mouth was dry. His poor heart couldn’t take much more excitement; his body was frozen, paralysed. He watched, a spectator in his own body as the snake sinuously made its way forward. It hissed and spat, rising up into the air. It was only now that Mikhail truly comprehended its size – even standing on the box, it was taller then he and fully as thick. Terrified though he was, a distant part of him admired the deep sea green sparkle of its scales as it twined upward in the moonlight. If it attacked, Mikhail knew he’d have to respond, would have to reveal his true strength and ability and all would be lost. He knew the creature would sense it and whatever chance he had of surviving this ordeal would be gone.
“G-good snakey.”
Sweat was pouring down his body. The snake gathered itself, preparing to strike and faster then he could blink it blurred in the distance between them, stopping short an inch from his face. Mikhail stifled a yelp and with iron control held himself still. As he did so, the snake spoke.
“How very interesting; what is a human child doing in Sunshine’s den?” It asked itself, swaying to and fro. “And still alive too, yes, this is most interesting indeed. Tell me, little boy, what are you doing here?”
It had a lovely, sibilant voice that seemed to shiver in the air. Now, Mikhail found himself staring into its direct, golden eyes. He should have answered the question and he meant to, he really did but what he found himself saying was this – “Oh. You can talk.”
The snake’s eyes narrowed to mere slits and a dangerous hiss began to build in the back of its throat. Mikhail gulped.
“Ah, that is to say…,” he hastily rectified. “I don’t know, sir… I was captured…Please don’t hurt me.” As it became clear that the snake wasn’t going to eat him, he began to relax, just a little bit.
“Yes, well that much is obvious, but why? You’re not dead so he doesn’t intend to eat you. You’re not chained so he doesn’t mean to use you. You’re deadweight.” It slithered around and away, musing, considering. “Perhaps Sunshine’s taken a liking to you, perhaps you mean something to him… Oh yes, then it would be my responsibility to take you away from him, now wouldn’t it?” the snake said, eyes sparkling with a menacing gleam.
Mikhail’s mind raced. Could this be his chance to escape? But the more he considered it, the less likely it seemed. At least Sunshine, if that was its name, was remotely human. He didn’t like the look of this tricky snake at all. He bit his lip, unsure of what to say.
*
Sunestraka frowned.
He was walking with a well concealed limp. He was now in the bowels of the earth, (semicolon instead of comma) sewer tunnels surrounded him arching up and away. It was completely dark, but that proved no problem for him. He could hear the slight scurrying of rats and other, heavier creatures he stayed well away from. His mind was, however, focused on another matter entirely.
The boy.
He couldn’t fathom why he’d taken him. It had been a spur of the moment decision [s]and one that[/s] (which) was, in hindsight, a very foolish one. The child had obviously been bait, strung out on a hook (semicolon) and (comma) fool that he was, he’d taken it. Still, they hadn’t reckoned on his strength and even now, a part of him was still glorying in the blood he’d shed this night. It was a worrying sign though; every year the Council threw its noose wider, tightening its control of the City (period) [s]and [/s](E)mboldened by its initial success, (it) dared now to strike into the Outskirts.
Things did not bode well for the future.
And yet, he had saved the child, their pawn. Something about the boy had struck him, something familiar and elusive. His small, dark(-)haired frame had been quaking with fear and not a little resolve too, to not have fled – it was this image that caused him to falter, that brought back memories he hadn’t considered in an age and it was this which he could not destroy. (You want to break up this sentence - it's a run-on, very long and very confusing.) Sunestraka had grabbed the child and fled, leaping and bounding away with the same speed and savage grace that had just destroyed twenty men.
N
ow, forced by the rain to seek refuge in the sewers, he was going back home to where he’d left him. He was carrying a blanket in one hand and it was this he’d set out to retrieve. He turned a corner, coming into the stretch that contained the entrance to his hideaway.
*
“Well, boy, what do you say? Do you desire to escape or is it you that is attached to [s]he [/s] (him) and not the other way around?”
The rain was pouring down now. Mikhail’s shoulders drooped; he’d been through too much tonight and he was cold and hungry. “I don’t know. Just leave me alone. Let me think.”
"Tick-tock, the time for thinking is over. Make a choice,” it hissed.
Mikhail’s head was pounding and he found he just didn’t have the energy for it. He’d entrusted his fate once to the strange creature and survived, he would do so again before sneaking off with a serpent.
“No,” he said.
“So be it,” the snake hissed, turning to leave. As it did, a curious thing happened – it began to shrink and wilt until Mikhail could see that someone was blocking its way. Gaunt, and menacing as ever, Sunestraka stood glowering at the now meek serpent.
“What are you doing in my home, Sal?” he growled.
“Sonny, my boy! What a pleasure to see you. My mistress sends her greetings.”
Sunestraka snorted. “Get lost, little lizard, before I step on you.”
“Now, now Sunshine, play fair. My mistress was merely interested in your new pet,” Sal quipped.
“He’s not my pet.”
“Ah,” Sal slithered forward eagerly. “Then what is he, exactly?”
“He’s none of your business. Now get lost,” he said, kicking at the snake.
Clearly displeased, it hissed and backed off, slithering away into the darkness. “Give my regards to the Witch,” he called after it. For the third time that night, Mikhail and Sunestraka were alone. Mikhail, who had been enjoying watching the serpent get humiliated, felt his amusement fade away. He slumped down the wall, till he was seated on the box.
Sunestraka threw the blanket at the startled boy. Mikhail flinched and it fell to the floor, untouched. After a moment, he brought the fur up to his chest, revelling in the warmth.
“Thank you,” he said.
Sunestraka said nothing, merely stared at him. After a moment, he turned on his heel and prepared to pad away.
“Hey, wait!” Mikhail called after him. “What do you plan to do with me?”
Sunestraka stopped, but did not turn around. “I don’t know,” he said, sounding unsure for the first time. “I will decide in the morning. In the meantime, I advise you to get your rest.”
He need not have bothered with this last; Mikhail’s eyes were already drooping shut.
*
He was standing at a crossroads. Empty buildings and flats rose up above him; it was dark and cold. Above, on the roof, something was stalking him.
Everything was going to plan. All he had to do was stand there and look “desirable” – whatever that meant. Never question a Magister, that’s what he’d been taught and he wouldn’t. So he stood and waited. He could feel the eyes and lens of the elite unit positioned all around him, but he couldn’t see them. Mikhail stood still, appearing to hesitate. Above, the cold light of the moon was blocked by shifting clouds (comma) and it (was) at that moment, (nix the comma) the creature struck.
The first thing Mikhail heard was a soft thud, then a harsh male voice shouted: “Now!” and he dove to the right, as planned, turning as he did so. He landed hard, feeling his shoulder burn but ignoring it as all around them[s],[/s] machine gun fire sprayed into the air. The intended target was not there, however; displaying the most incredible speed Mikhail had ever seen, it was spinning, leaping and diving – virtually bounding off the walls. Soon after this, the screams began.
Shivering, curled up in a ball, Mikhail tried to cover his ears and block out the sounds. Moments later, an explosion ripped through the air as a fireball arced through space, sending a stack of boxes and crates alight. The heat on his skin convinced Mikhail that he needed to get away; he was in the centre of a storm of death. He got up and crawled as fast as he could to the nearest wall, hearing the shouts and screams continue about him. A contingent of men poured out of a building nearby.
“Take it down, take it down!”
“It’s too quick! Use the cluster-crystals, hurry!”
This was followed by the sound of an explosion and a curious whining as shards of crystal flew through the air, ricocheting off walls. The creature, a mere shadow, danced away (comma) seemingly floating on the air as the cluster-crystal did more damage to the men than their foe. In the disorientation that followed it got between them, its claws slashing through throats and disembowelling stomachs.
Blood flew through the air.
Mikhael tried to shut it all out, to close his eyes and forget. Even then, the flicker and flash still impressed upon his vision and he sobbed. Soon, they became fewer and fewer until only the odd cry of pain or shout of anger troubled the night air. Gradually, Mikhail opened his eyes. There were several bodies nearby; he skipped over these quickly, surveying the rest of the area.
Nothing stirred.
He licked lips gone dry with terror, trying to generate some saliva and slowly sat up. A slow moving trail of blood was moving its way toward him. Mikhail could only stare at the rich crimson tide in dumbfounded horror (comma) and it was in the reflection of the gleaming liquid that he saw its shadow approach. Mikhail drew his knees in close to his chest, panic clawing its way through his body. As he did so, a body in the background moved and began to rise. It was the Magister – dressed as the other soldiers were but distinguished easily by the diamond shaped crystal embedded in his forehead. It was a symbol of power and authority that drew Mikhail’s eyes instantly, with fatal consequence.
The creature noticed the boy’s eye shift and moved slightly to the right in an insultingly slow fashion as a beam of light tore through the space he’d been standing only moments ago. Still in the same motion, it turned and flicked something bright lazily away – it flew straight and true, smashing the now pulsing crystal in the Magister’s forehead. The man’s eyes widened, for just one second locking with Mikhail’s, before his head exploded.
Uneasy, Mikhail moaned and rolled over. He’d rolled out of the blanket and onto hard, uncomfortable ground. Moments later, his eyes opened and he stared at the blank grey wall. He had a sickening, ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach. It seemed he couldn’t escape what occurred; even though he’d tried not to think about it, he knew he would forever be haunted by the previous night’s slaughter. Now, he knew what he’d tried not to think about, what he’d tried to forget. His lips trembled as the realisation sank it.
He had killed the Magister and saved the creature.
He was a criminal.
Perhaps. Anyway, loving it all!
Jiggity wrote:His breath steamed in the air and he shivered, holding his thin legs close to his body.
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