Swift did Ishkinil react at he first hint of danger, and into shadows retreated, her cloak billowing thick around her. White-blue flames danced along Dirgesinger's length as it came to life. Anubarak backed away, behind Ishkinil, his hands flexing on the hilt of his sword, tightening and relaxing.
The smoke rolled and gathered, rising up like great waves, higher, and higher still, near to the ceiling of the cavern. Within its stygian gloom, a figure began to form, one far from human, for it was long and sinuous, more snake than man, or a blend of both, with cold yellow eyes and tongue that flickered from between fangs. To the heights of the statues it rose, and began to coil around one of them, great scaly loops that flowed in and around. A sibilant hiss came from it, though it spoke not.
“What is it?” Anubarak asked, his eyes wide at the sight of the creature of smoke and shadows, one that solidified into a more mortal aspect as they watched, one of flesh and scales.
“hat I do not know,” Ishkinil replied, her voice calm. “Some manner of beast summoned forth from the void and the darkness, yet fashioned into a more mortal form, for from whence they come, they have no physical body.”
The beast reared back and its head swayed, tongue tasting at the air. “Where then,” it whisper-hissed, “Are the promised sacrifices? Summon me not without that which was promised or suffer for it.” It's head swung lower and lower, down towards where Ishkinil and Anubarak stood. From it came a low, rumbling hum and its great yellow eyes loomed large, almost hypnotic in their gaze. Anubarak found himself drawn to them, unable to take his eyes from them, mesmerised by the eyes and the noise. A slumberous warmth settled on him, thoughts and desires seeping away.
The snake-beast's head drew level with Ishkinil, and full on her focused its gaze, close enough that its flickering tongue almost touched her face. Yet she laughed in response, and Dirgesinger crooned as she unleashed it, the blade scoring deep across the beast's snout. Not blood was it that seeped forth from the wound, but black smoke instead, and the beast reared back, its sibilant tones deeper, more strident.
“Thou, a petty bug, would dare strike me?” came the rumbling voice of the beast. “Long shall your suffering be for such an affront.”
When once more the beast's head came down, it struck with speed, mouth opened to reveal gleaming ivory fangs, ones that dripped with black venom. Shadow on shadow it came, a blur to the eye, yet Ishkinil rolled aside as the fangs struck, hitting stone instead of flesh. A pool of darkness was left where the fangs hit, and an acrid smell rose into the air, as well as a sizzling sound.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Ishkinil rolled back to her feet, sword singing even as she did. Once more it lashed across the snake-beast, bringing forth a flow of smoke. Yet for all that it did, little effect it appeared to have upon the foe, hampering it not. It uncoiled itself from around the statue and dropped to the ground, its vast bulk terrifying to behold. It slithered forward, and as t did, it brushed aside ancient stone formations, shattering stalagmites and columns as it did. Anubarak scurried out of the way as shards of stone were flung about, yet the beast appeared to have eyes only for Ishkinil, who had struck it and for its hate was focused.
With the shadows woven about her, she was hard to spot in the gloom of the cavern. She moved with swift grace between the stone formations, moving one way and then the other, always just beyond the reach of the beast. Anubarak sneaked around behind it, keeping an eye out for the lashing tail as it shattered stone in its wake. Over to the statues he ran, up onto the dais, to where Ishkinil's torch still rested against the leg of one of the statues. He snatched it up, for fear that in the clash that it would be extinguished and that they would be plunged into the dark, easy prey for the beast.
Fear gripped him tight as he watched from his vantage point, too afraid to get closer. Against the beast, his sword seemed a pitiful thing, of no use. If Dirgesinger could do little, his blade would do less. In the tunnel there might be refuge due to the size of the beast, for it appeared too large to fit, yet much as he wished to run for the safety of it, that would mean requiring abandoning Ishkinil. In time, all would receive a visit from Enkurgil when they breathed their last; Anubrak doubted he would be well pleased by one who abandoned his handmaiden.
Even so, he could not help but to slowly move away from he dais, towards the exit, in preparation should Ishkinil fall and he needed to run. If she did, only then would he run, and not before.
More than once during her dance among the cavern had Ishkinil scored blows upon the beast, the place now largely ruined, with scattered, broken stone formations littering the ground. Still Ishkinil danced on, from one place to the next, avoiding sudden strikes, Dirgesinger crooning each time it struck, yet never did it seem to hinder the beast mae of smoke and darkness.
Then, all abrupt, Ishkinil came to halt, for reasons Anubarak could not see. On the far side of the chamber she stood, barely seen, just a glimmer of white-blue flames among the shadows. The snake-beast reared up, ready to strike, and Anubarak turned his head aside, for he could not stand to watch the inevitable.