Industry & Intrigue
Page 50
The witch tapped her claws on the table with her left hand and with her right clutched something. She moved her closed fist out to the center of the table, turned it over and opened her palm. Sitting there, were four runes of bone. She threw them into the air and let them clacker onto the table. They fell and arranged themselves into a pattern.
The witch hissed. “Yes, an omen. The great serpents are not maddened or enraged. They are frightened. They are fleeing.”
Crackjaw swallowed hard. He wondered what could scare hundreds of the great earth serpents. He heard shouts from the village, but he ignored them. He needed to know what this omen meant. “From what?” he asked.
The witch moved her hand and threw the bone runes in the air a second time. They landed and aligned themselves again. The witch stopped her claws from tapping when she read what was on them. Her right hand pulled away from the table and she gave out another hissing noise, louder this time. For the first time since he had known her, she sounded afraid.
Crackjaw looked at the bone runes, but he had no idea how to interpret the intricate rune carvings. “What? What is it?” he demanded.
“The great serpents flee because he is awake. They are fleeing him!” the witch cried.
There were more shouts from outside and this time they were accompanied by screams and ear-piercing shrieks. Crackjaw recognized the sound, it was a malcan attack call.
He stood up and pushed his way past the other elders. When he stepped outside he saw the reason for all of the noise, the village was under attack. The hunter had been right, the malcan were enraged and they were directing their madness at his village.
The few remaining hunters had grabbed bows and were firing at the great serpents, but it was no good; the serpents were everywhere, even swimming in the dirt beneath the village. Crackjaw saw several huts tip over as the serpents moved beneath them, grass, dirt and rocks spilling aside for the malcan.
Another hut burst apart as a malcan thrust its way up. The malcan screeched and thrust its pale white claws at the hunters firing at it. Most of them managed to dive out of the way, but one unfortunate drakon was impaled on the end of its spiked claw. The malcan’s multiple black eyes lining each side of its face appeared to be looking around the village. It gave out another shriek and dove back into the soil, taking several villagers with it.
Crackjaw ran back into the tent and looked at the witch. He yelled at her this time, “What is coming? Why are the malcan fleeing?”
The witch’s shawl moved, the darkness within felt penetrating and he shrank back. The witch stood up to face him. She pulled back her shawl and revealed her face.
Both her eyes were pale-white with blindness and the scales on the left side of her head were melted into a horrible scar. The hut suddenly shook and the other village elders began wailing and screaming. Crackjaw barely managed to maintain his balance. The entire hill beneath them was ripped apart as the malcan dug through it. The witch looked him directly in the eyes, even though she had no way of seeing where his eyes were.
He stared into her glassy eyes and she spoke again, “It is the Tyrant. They flee the Tyrant! The Immortal Tyrant is awake! He is awake once more and when he moves he will sweep the land in flames, turning everything in his path to ash.” Her voice had grown loud and fearful.
Before Crackjaw had time to process the witch’s prophetic claim, the entire hut fell apart, straw and wooden beams falling down. He felt the ground give way beneath him. The other elders fell into the earth with cries of fear, while he tried to grab what remained of the hut and hold on. He managed to wrap his claws around a still standing beam.
The witch fell into soil, as she did so continued screaming “The Tyrant returns! The Tyrant returns!”
Crackjaw felt his fingers slipping from the wooden beam. He tried to hold on but it was no use. A few seconds later he followed the witch and the other elders. He tumbled into the moving dirt as the entire hill collapsed.
About The Author
Ryan McCall lives in Taupo, New Zealand. When not writing, he is busy with his day job as a lab chemist, reading, exercising, or catching up on the latest episodes of his favorite TV shows.
Contact details
Website: http://writermccall.weebly.com
Email: ryan_mccall@writeme.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/writermccall
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Writer_McCall