To more fully enjoy this story in living, breathing HTML,
  please visit our website at:
 
    http://www.asstr.org/~vivian

  Now offering over 140,000 words of pure prurience!

  --------------------------------------------------------


 

                               Sangrelysia

                          by Vivian Darkbloom

Scramble

   Then I awoke. Or lapsed back into dreaming. As you prefer.

   "Oh my God, he's awake!" I heard Sylvia yell excitedly. I felt a
   hand on my forehead. "Do you know who I am? Do you know where you
   are? Are you still alive?"

   Cracking open one eye, I gathered that I was lying on a pile of
   cushy bedding on the sandy lake shore. I saw a dark ovoid shape
   of glittery metallic reddish-green, covered with cryptic
   pictographic markings, lying cockeyed in the sand nearby.

   How I had gotten there was a mystery. On one side sat Sylvia, on
   the other side sat an olive-skinned girl with tawny hair, flecked
   with gold, whom I vaguely remembered was called `Clarissa.' Both
   were clothed now (I guess Clarissa had borrowed from Sylvia),
   though I was still naked, beneath the covers. Sylvia was in a
   short black outfit with low-cut halter top, but Clarissa wore a
   modest dress in solid burnt sienna earth tones.

   "Sylvia," I started, lifting my head.

   "He remembers! He knows who I am!"

   "Right," I said, as a rush of weakness made me let my head fall
   back to the pillow. "What happened back there?"

   "You stopped breathing," explained Clarissa calmly. "Your heart
   stopped beating. Eliathe said that when the ritual severed the
   connection with the dimension of evil that was holding the
   Dragon's egg in place, the resulting turbulence disrupted the
   spells that were keeping you safe from the poison."

   "You should've seen," Sylvia gesticulated enthusiastically. "She
   encased you in some kind of force field. I've never seen anything
   like it. She saved your life! Saying it was best to get you out
   of there, away from the scene of the rupture. They put you on
   this fancy platform thingie and all the girls carried you."

   "Elyiathe cast a spell on me? Any side effects I should know
   about?"

   "What do you mean?" asked Clarissa.

   "Such as, being skeletonized on an uncharted desert isle,
   anything like that?"

   Clarissa laughed. "I suppose some anxiety would be
   understandable."

   I hesitated, waiting a bit for further reassurance, but none
   came. "You're saying that some worry might be appropriate?"

   Clarissa laughed again. "No, no, silly. She wouldn't play games
   like that. On you, anyway."

   Not quite as comforting as I might have hoped. "OK, back up a
   bit. So the connection with the dimension of evil?"

   "It's the only way that Elwrong can make her spells work in
   Sangrelysia. She has to force open a portal to her source of
   power."

   "And if someone can close the portal, the spell collapses."

   "Right. That's how we released the dragon's egg from being stuck
   on the bottom."

   Lifting my head, I could see it sitting there, cock-eyed in the
   sand. It was equally spectacular out in the light as it had been
   underwater, dark metallic reddish golden green, with engraved
   markings that resembled ancient alien hieroglyphics.

   "So I was just wondering."

   "Yes?"

   "That ritual we did?"

   "Yes?"

   "Is it the only way to sever the nasty connection with the
   dimension of pure evil?"

   "Well, no. But it's the most fun one."

   "Great," I said, thinking about how we needed to work out a way
   to do the same thing for Elwrong herself, to cut off her source
   of power. I could just see being caught in the midst of frenetic
   battle: Excuse us for a moment, while we cast this spell. . .

   I looked at Clarissa. "Just wondering, in the part that I don't
   remember, did you and me. . .?"

   She grinned. "No."

   "You're still immortal then."

   "Still immortal."

   "My God," exclaimed Sylvia again, covering my face with kisses.
   "I'm so glad you're back, you're awake!"

   "What if this were be the dream, and where I was before, when you
   thought I had gone, was closer to waking reality."

   "You nearly died!" moaned Sylvia quietly.

   Clarissa eyed me, brimming with curiosity. "Death," she said.

   "You're wondering what it's like," I guessed.

   She nodded.

   "How old are you, anyway?" She appeared to be no older than eight
   or nine years.

   "You don't want to know. Immortal doesn't only mean `without
   ending.' It also means `without beginning.'"

   "It was. . ." I tried to explain. "Freedom," I settled on. "Very
   difficult to describe. Love, light. Freedom."

   Clarissa nodded knowingly. "I have heard others before, with
   similar stories. None can put it into words."

   "This is the dream," I repeated. "You know that, of course. The
   other is reality. Where I was when I was gone."

   "Oh, don't say that!" protested Sylvia. "I need you here. We need
   you here." More kisses smothering my face and neck.

   "I know," replied Clarissa to me, "but an awfully persistent
   dream."

   Sylvia was staring off into space, lost in thought.

   "What do you think?" I asked her.

   "Oh, nothing. I was just remembering that dress that I was going
   to give to Aunt Megan."

   "The one you showed me in the carriage, before the ambush?"

   "Yeah."

   Feeling stronger, I worked myself into sitting. "You'll give her
   the dress. Count on it," I said.

   She collapsed against me. Feeling the warm wetness of tears on my
   bare chest, I wrapped my arms around her, and braced against her
   sobbing. My eyes rested on the mysterious dark spheroid lying in
   the sand. I wanted to get a closer look at it.

   After she had calmed down somewhat, I leaned down to kiss her
   cheek.

   "You OK?"

   She was silent.

   "It's a lot to cope with, I know. Look, we need to figure out
   what to do next. I think I should get dressed now."

   "Or," Clarissa raised her eyebrows seductively, "We could get
   undressed."

   "No." I said.

   She pouted.

   "Listen," I said, "I don't think I'm the right one, to take your
   virginity like that."

   "But I want it to be you."

   "You barely know me."

   "But I know!"

   The sky darkens. A shadow falls across where we sit by the
   lakeside. Looking up, we see above us an undulating, variegated
   surface of metallic reddish green scales. With a quiet but
   powerful swoosh, a gigantic claw swoops down and snatches the
   egg, kicking up a spray of grit that stings our faces as one of
   the razor-sharp tips skims the sandy topsoil of the shore.

   "Careful!" I called out.

   The serpentine form unwinds in spiral loops, whipping by
   overhead, the last being the tail with striated fins like a fish.
   Its scaly surface scrolls swiftly across the heavens, a neatly
   tiled, articulated mosaic of armor plates softly clicking
   together as they slither through the sky.

   As it circles overhead the lake, I can see its head emerge from
   the snakelike swirls of its smooth cylindrical body. A huge head,
   as large as a carriage. The horned, reptilian face is featured
   with fearsome angularity, but wears an expression of serene,
   timeless wisdom.

   With a quick "Whoof," it sent a scorching blast flame over to the
   tree where the two crows sat, hitting them dead center with the
   full force. Only, the tree did not catch fire, nor even show any
   signs of being singed or burnt.

   The two crows, on the other hand, began to swell up grotesquely,
   until each was the size and shape of a human -- a human in a
   black suit wearing dark sunglasses, shiny black shoes, and a
   black hat. Being now unfit for the perch upon which they sat,
   both tumbled out of the tree, one face-planted, the other landing
   on his butt on the soft sandy ground below.

   "Spies," proclaimed Sylvia triumphantly, "Told you so!"

   "No ma'am. Musicians."

   With a second blast from the dragon, the two seemingly caught
   fire. But the `flame' was no ordinary one: it lashed out in a
   bright prismatic splay of colors, wreathing the two figures in a
   palette of curling vapors, as they sat stunned, looking up at the
   dragon. Gradually they began to dissolve into ghostlike images,
   becoming more an more transparent. Both of them held up their
   see-through hands, apparently fascinated by the effect. Finally,
   they were completely invisible, and the flames vanished as well,
   leaving the stillness of the forest glen as it was before they
   had arrived.

   "What was that all about?" asked Sylvia.

   "It sent them back into the universe from which they came," said
   Clarissa. "I've only seen it happen once before. Amazing."

   The loops of the endlessly long dragon's body rippled outward
   from the center, and its tail inadvertently brushed the side of a
   cliff above us with a huge cracking sound, loosing a small
   avalanche which noisily cascaded down the cliff for a minute or
   so, as the stream of rocks and debris fell like a waterfall. In
   the midst was a gigantic boulder, taller than me, which rolled
   down the slope to land a metre or so from where we had been
   sitting. We had all gotten up and run away. As the dust was
   settling, I went over and tried to shove the boulder aside, but
   it would not budge.

   "Um, a bit more careful with that tail if you please, Mrs.
   Dragon, ma'am." I said.

   The dragon's head swooped down towards the surface of the lake,
   and a jet of flame licked the lake surface, yielding a thick,
   rolling mist which rapidly engulfed us, blinding us to anything
   but the cool, soft, soothing, creamy whiteness. I held up my
   hands, but could not see them through the fog.

   I hear the red dragon wheeling in the air, the earth and sky
   trembling as I see the dark, hulking form through the white haze,
   zooming directly towards me. In the split-second it takes to
   arrive, I have no chance to feel the surge of terror as it opens
   its mouth and exhales a sheet of flame that washes over me.

   I find myself floating by myself in a distant universe,
   surrounded by womblike healing warmth. The subtle heart-essence
   of the crystal is now floating in front of me, a point of
   luminescence like a firefly, shining bright with white-hot
   lavender light that radiates through me.

   Before me appears the face of the dragon, hovering in silent
   stillness across from me. I gaze into her intelligent alert eyes,
   red pupils glittering with silver, and feel the tender empathy of
   the she-dragon. For the first time, I begin to understand
   Sylvia's fascination with the crystal, the connection with such a
   wonderfully vast awareness.

   As the she-dragon studies me, a look of sadness crosses her
   visage, and a tear wells up in the corner of her eye. As it
   falls, it floats across the cloud-filled air between us, wobbling
   like a bubble into a round, globular shape. I see in it the
   reflections and refractions of myself and the dragon.

   As it draws closer, I find myself within the vision I had seen
   inside of it, as it expands to become a sphere around me.

   A fiery tingling penetrates each and every muscle, sinew, organ,
   and bone of my body, purifying and healing. With a profound sense
   of relief, I feel all of the toxins having departed from my
   flesh, leaving in their place a fresh pristine purity, a sense of
   wholeness and health far better than I recall having felt in
   decades.

   The heavy burden of aching and stiffness crumbles and dissolves,
   falling away, leaving in its place a wonderful zest and
   liveliness, a clarity and eagerness to get up and dance, to hurl
   myself into the infinite skies and soar with the bright smiles of
   the wind and stars.

   The next I remember, I find myself walking along the lake shore,
   I have no idea where, listening to the quiet lapping of waves, as
   the layers of mist lift and dance around me, slowly revealing the
   light of midday.

   Soon I could make out the silhouette of a harp through the haze,
   a frame surrounding the rows of parallel strings, and gradually
   the two girls came into view, each of us wandering in a similar
   state of dazed wonder nearby the lake shore.

   We met in a silent triumvirate at the water's edge.
     ____________________________________________________________

   Sylvia glanced over at her sketchpad, which still lay where she
   had set it in the sand.

   "Whoa," she lunged forward, picking it up, frantically
   scrutinizing.

   "What is it?" I asked.

   "The picture is gone! The one of me with the fishes underwater,
   now it's just a blank page!" Agitated, she leafed through the
   rest of the sketchbook. "The others are still there. Whoa, that's
   really weird. What happened? Where'd it go?"

                                                          Chapter 25

  _______________________________________________________


  For more stories, please visit our site:
    http://www.asstr.org/~vivian