Great art inspires great stories. This piece by Svetlin Velinov inspired me to post an excerpt from Dream Alchemy, my forthcoming fantasy novel. The main character, Nombuso, first inspired by the trials of Hercules, represents the archetypal warrior in many fantasy stories. Yet his courage extends beyond the sword as Dream Alchemy unfolds....
Hydra Slayer
Seek Godchild Atrius, Angel so bold
In swamp barrow - gold and old
There in Uztalex where the hydra roam
And the mists of the dead choke and groan
Where those who dream of freedom’s peace
Shall find it in that dream’s release
Stumbling
through the foetid quagmire, Nombuso recites a verse from the Prophecy.
All about him he hears the cries of his comrades, who like him, are lost
in the twisting mists of Uztalex. He
sees no safe track to follow, no way forward, so relies on instincts
sharpened by the continuing rebellion against Queen Zahkih. They tell him to press on, not to stand
still, for the enemy is near. He
struggles on, with anger in his heart and lungs burning with the breath of the
swamp, ever wary of falling foul of quick sand.
A shrill
shriek!
Nombuso crouches
and looks with his single jet eye to the mists ahead, but sees only illusionary
shadows passing across the grey wall.
His rage simmers as a hollow stillness follows - his choking breaths the
only sound. Silently he unsheathes his hand-and-half
sword from his back, leaving his short sword at his side. Bringing his round shield before him, he
waits.
Nerve-flaying cries
pierce the air as three dragon-like heads emerge from the fog, their oily black
skin glistening. Each head has two
reptilian eyes that flank a row of tiny horns running from snout to crown, and a
maw lined with venomous fangs. As the
heads rise up high, the mists clear to reveal three serpentine necks attached
to a huge, slug-like body. A cacophony
spills from the jaws of the hydra as it spots the man and lurches forward.
In his fury, Nombuso
meets the first attack of the towering creature with an arcing blow, slicing
one head clean from its neck. He ducks
the second attack, and deflects the third with his shield - the force of the
hydra’s blow knocking him back into the swamp.
Swiftly, he regains his feet and sees the hydra’s two remaining heads
writhe in agony. It is now vulnerable,
he knows, so charges towards its soft underbelly. The fell beast is quick to respond and
strikes out with jaws cast wide.
The berserker
roars as he dives into the swamp, narrowly evading the two heads that snap at
the air above him. In its frustration
the hydra screeches with one head, while with the other tears at the boggy
vegetation in search of her enemy. Upon
finding nothing, the shrieking head joins in the hunt, spearing the morass with
its massive jaws cast wide.
Nombuso leaps up
from the slime and thrusts his blade into the underbelly of the fell
beast. Simultaneously, he catches
glimpse of a gaping mouth descending through the mists above. His shield meets the assault, though deters
it for only a moment - like a cobra it recoils and attacks again. Withdrawing his sword from the creature’s
underbelly, Nombuso turns to meet the striking head, exposing his blindside –
the darkness of his lost eye – and doesn’t see the other attacking head. His body stiffens as venomous fangs pierce
his armour. His sword falls as he is
lifted into the air.
Like a rag doll,
Nombuso dangles from the hydra’s mouth as before him appears the second
head. Its jaws widen, releasing a blast
of noxious breath. Coughing, twitching,
he can do nothing but hold onto his shield as the beast’s jaws close about him.
A feint in
combat, a trick many times used: to appear weak when still strong. In one fluid movement the warrior’s short
sword leaves its scabbard and is thrust deep into the throat of the attacking
head. With eye as dark as death, Nombuso
wills himself to overcome the poison of the hydra. With shield he bashes the snout of the
skewered head until the other lets go.
Released from
the jaws, Nombuso falls into the mire.
Rising upon unsteady feet, he holds out his weapon before him and waits
for the hydra’s next attack. The poison
that courses through him shadows his vision and intensifies the stench of the
swamp’s breath, making it almost impossible to fight on. His warrior instincts refuse to let him be
defeated: he leaps backward to evade a lethal bite. Lashing out blindly, he meets flesh. Stumbling forward, he lunges, unknowingly
sinking his blade through an eye. An
instant later he is knocked back off his feet.
Darkness.
The cold grip of
the swamp.
Buried alive!
Nombuso
struggles from the liquid earth. He can
barely see, and the distant cries of men mix, becoming distorted and
strange. He holds out his blade before
him, ready to fight on, ready for death.
But death does not come, and everywhere he looks he sees only grey. It takes him a heart pounding moment to
realise that the hydra has retreated.
Lost, alone, the
warrior begins to move, his every step in the quagmire an effort. He wants to fall, he wants to lie down and
let the hydra venom take him, but the words of the Prophecy rise in his twisted
thoughts and give him the strength to continue his search.
Seek Godchild Atrius, Angel so bold
In swamp barrow - gold and old
There in Uztalex where the hydra roam
And the mists of the dead choke and groan
Where those who dream of freedom’s peace
Shall find it in that dream’s release
Dead men lie
here and there, brave souls he has known, as his path takes him further into
the swamp. Many times he swears he sees
hydra heads breaking the mists, but after he has turned and charged them, they
vanish. Whether it is the acrid fog or
the hydra venom playing tricks upon his eye, he does not know, and so when he catches
sight of another dark shape dead ahead of him, he is unsure what to do. Let it come for me, his instincts say; he has
not the strength to charge it anyway.
The black shape
remains something altogether foreboding.
It is twice the height of a man and roughly round. It is not moving. Cautiously, Nombuso approaches, his teeth gritted. He can’t feel his arms anymore; he doesn’t
think he can swing his sword. Drawing
closer, he realises he faces no beast, only darkness. Before him is the entrance to some ancient
barrow. As nearer he comes, he realises
that it is deep, for far off in the black, beneath the swamp, he sees a golden
glow.
Swallowing hard,
Nombuso heads down what appears to be a wide, circular tunnel. The ground, like the walls, is carpeted with
moss, soft and slippery underfoot. His
gasping breaths echo, and though he tries to still them he can’t, for the hydra
venom is overpowering. Halfway down the
passage his foot meets metal and he slips; his head bangs against the wall,
setting the tunnel ringing. Fear grips
him as the clanging sound travels deep to distant ears. There he lies in a half daze, lost in a world
of twisted colours, and whispers again the words that give him strength.
Seek Godchild Atrius, Angel so bold
In swamp barrow - gold and old
There in Uztalex where the hydra roam
And the mists of the dead choke and groan
Where those who dream of freedom’s peace
Shall find it in that dream’s release
The warrior
struggles to his feet, forgetting his sword.
Onward he presses, leaning against the moist metal wall, until he sees
only light pushing back the darkness. He
is near now, and he is walking into a vast sphere. Golden light sparkles across its surface like
sunlight on rippling water, and in his delirium Nombuso believes that he has
been lifted from this world to Paradise, for high up in this palace of glass he
beholds an angel whose wings radiate moonlight and whose eyes shimmer like twin
suns. As the armoured godchild glides
down towards him, Nombuso laughs wildly.
©Nicholas Boyd Crutchley 2014
Hydra Slayer is an Excerpt from the fantasy/sci-fi Novel, Dream Alchemy. Available Summer 2014.
