Celebrimbor Helyanwë (suntdracones) wrote in st_margarets, @ 2016-07-12 19:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: ashton hartley, character: blake hartley, location: beyond the academy and camden |
Narrative: Slayer's Final Reckoning
WHO: Celebrimbor and Blake Hartley
WHEN: Summer
WHERE: Lakagígar (Laki) volcanic fissure, close to Kirkjubæjarklaustur, Iceland
The Stjórnarfoss waterfalls, situated in the volcanic hills near the Lakagígar fissure was fully thawed in the summer time and ran in steps down to a series of pools that let off into larger and larger waterfalls. The location was remote and did not get many tourists, particularly on a day like this where the clouds had gathered and darkened the summer sky, threatening rain. Blake was at the pools, swimming in the water that was surprisingly warm. The heat from the volcano raised the temperature of the surface and on nights when the air dipped into cooler ranges, the pools steamed like a spa.
Fresh running water had healing properties that Blake was taking advantage of to ease the ache in his leg. The mean scar on his thigh was a deformity that made those who saw it wonder how he was able to stand at all, much less hunt dragons across the globe. The warm water sapped away the old pain and left Blake more relaxed, more at ease. But he still knew the moment Ashton arrived at the edge of the pool.
Ashton stood in his black clothes, his lean frame still sprouting into what humans would consider manhood, a wind tousled mop of dark blonde hair on his head and sharp green eyes that assessed the Dragonslayer in the water. The dragon waited, anger simmering just beneath the surface of his human form.
"So, it's today," Blake said without turning around where he was floating in the water. He looked up at the sky, feeling the first few drops of rain splash against his cheeks. It would be an appropriate forecast for a day a slayer was to die. When Ashton didn't respond, Blake put his feet down and touched the bottom of the natural pool. He walked towards the shore, feet careful on the black volcanic rocks, and eyed Ashton as he reached for the clothes he'd left off to the side. "You'll fight me as a man, Celebrimbor?" He smirked, shaking dust from his shirt before pulling it over his head, tugging the fabric from clinging to his sticky wet skin.
"No." Ashton's voice was low and caused Blake to turned towards him fully. Continuing in Icelandic, Ashton met the eyes of the Dragonslayer who had ended his sire and dam before he had hatched. "I will kill you as a dragon."
Without further ado, Ashton transformed. He and Barclay had had long talks since leaving St. Margaret's, and Ashton was now emotionally prepared to face the hated Blake for the last time. Barclay was against him killing without actually ever saying he was against him killing, but Ashton would not listen. It was right. It was just. Blake deserved to die. Ashton had left Barclay at Blake's house further down the mountain with specific instructions not to follow.
Faced with a black dragon that had doubled in size since the first time Blake laid eyes on him three years ago, Blake remained calm. The first thing to learn about dragons was that they could smell fear. There was no fear coming off of Blake, only a calm resignation that came with knowing something was going to happen. Ashton had written him weekly from St. Margaret's, and in each letter, the dragon had always ended on the note that Ashton would live to see Blake take his last breath - and that it would be him taking it from him. Blake had accepted Barclay and Ashton at his house with this knowledge in mind and he waited. Days passed. Ashton went to the volcano to molt his old scales. The dragon and the Druid traveled to the village to pay respects at the grave stones of the elderly couple who had first taken Ashton in and taught him about humans.
And now, at last, the dragon was ready to follow through with his threats.
Blake buttoned up his pants and eyed the beast. There was a calling in his blood whenever he was around a dragon, a sort of thrill that never got old, and Blake felt it now as he regarded the black dragon in his shiny new obsidian scales, delicate membranes of wings spread proudly, spikes drawn. Blake could see the dragonfire burning in his throat, saw it glow through the scales in his chest with each slow intake of oxygen that stoked the fire glands. Celebrimbor Helyanwë was truly magnificent to behold, so dark that he drank in all the light around him, mirroring his dragon elemental gift to absorb all life. Of all the dragons Blake had met in his career as a Dragonslayer, he'd never seen another black. As far as he knew, Celebrimbor was the last.
"Are you going to let me get my shoes on first, dragon?" Blake asked, reaching for his boots where they nestled against his sheathed sword.
Fire lit up the pool as Ashton breathed flame at Blake. The Dragonslayer, keyed to react and catching the brightening in Ashton's throat before the fire left it, threw himself out of the way - taking his sword with him in the roll. The black volcanic rock was singed, green moss burned, and the Dragonslayer's boots incinerated.
"Pick up your weapon and face me," Ashton snarled, shifting his feet, tail slicing at the air with deadly spines at the tip. Ashton closed the spines into the shape of a club and slammed it into the side of the mountain, shattering stones and causing a miniature landslide that sent ripples across the pool towards the waterfall.
Blake got up slowly. The sword was already out of its sheath and the fae magic imbued within caused the blade to glow in the presence of the dragon. Ashton could hear the blood of his mother and father and many more of his kind singing within its forged edge. It fueled Ashton's rage. Once, years ago, that sword had been used against him, too. The spot on Ashton's side that still bore scars of the wound burned anew. Blake didn't speak, not to taunt or to beg. He held his sword at the ready. If he was going to be killed tonight by a dragon - so be it. If he lived, then Ashton would die. Blake would probably then have to face down a furious druid, but he'd worry about that later.
Celebrimbor lunged forward. Rocks skittered around them as the dragon engaged the slayer. Blake kept the pool at his back. If things got too toasty, the water would save him. Better yet, if he could get Ashton into the water, it might extinguish the flame within his throat, even if only for a few minutes. Talons as long as his arm swiped at Blake and he ducked and rolled, coming up under Ashton's chin and snapping jaws and the sword was utilized as a deterrent against biting. Ashton was eager to snap the Dragonslayer in half, but the sharp point of the sword sliced into the soft flesh of his tongue and he roared with outrage, pulling back with spewing flame.
A splash and Blake was in the water. Ashton, tongue stinging, leaped after him. The two mortal enemies continued their fight, Blake working the exchanges in a way that would put Ashton closer to the waterfall. In another lunging move, the dragon was under the spray and his fire went out with a hissing steam. Blake went in for a fatal strike, counting on Ashton being disoriented from the spray and his loss of fire. The dragon, however, had had his fire put out before, and knew this to be Blake's strategy. As the human dove in with the blade aimed to penetrate a large silver eye, Ashton's tail came down like a whip and crashed into Blake, sending him sailing into the rocks of the mountain. Blake's sword went in a different direction, immersed under the dark bubbling water.
Stunned but not unconscious, bruised but not broken, Blake groaned and shifted to his side, desperately trying to get his bearings, but Ashton was on him. The dragon's hand lowered down to trap the slayer in a cage of black claws that dug into the rocks until Blake was pinned to the ground. Ashton's eyes gleamed, slitted pupils widening and then narrowing sharply as he hissed, dripping water like rain over the man. It was almost as if Celebrimbor had a sinister smile on his draconic features. His injured leg crushed beneath the pressure, Blake was momentarily blinded by sharp pain. He gritted his teeth against an outcry and grabbed onto the scales at the base of Ashton's talons.
"Do it!" He shouted up at the monster. "Take your revenge, beast." Blake squirmed, but the leg was twisted beneath him in a way that sent waves of agony through him. He'd always known the injury would be the death of him, but even in the face of defeat, Blake was reaching for the package in his pocket filled with fairy dust. It was soaked, but it would still cause an allergic reaction in Ashton when he flung it into his steaming nostrils.
Celebrimbor, a moment away from victory, paused. He cocked his head at the human, relenting on some of the pressure he was giving for only a moment. "I am no beast." The growl in his throat was a little damp, but the fire glands were starting to heat up again, steam rising. His lip curled back. "You are the beast, Dragonslayer! How many innocent lives have you taken from this world?" When Blake didn't immediately respond, Celebrimbor asked again, louder, the sound echoing through the volcanic hills. "How many?!"
Blake bared his teeth, blood making the expression red. "One too few, it seems" he spat.
Wanting to lash out, wanting to tear the Dragonslayer's head from his shoulders for his insolence even in the face of death, Celebrimbor was forced to stop. Temperance was not one of Ashton's strongest traits, but he had learned so much in the years since leaving his lair in these mountains. He no longer saw the world in black and white. He no longer saw humans as lesser. In fact, he loved one of them despite his black heart, despite what this man believed him capable of. Blake wanted Celebrimbor to destroy him. He wanted that death by dragonfire, he craved it. Ashton could see it in his eyes, just beneath the surface. He wanted it to end and to end with honor, to end where it proved his beliefs and the beliefs of his ancestors to be true: that dragons were evil and would always be killer destructive beasts.
Celebrimbor withdrew just as Blake's fingers got a hold on the bag of fairy dust. Surprised by the lessening of pressure on his leg, Blake tensed, unsure what was happening. Ashton stepped back, wings rustling from attack position to relaxed, and from relaxed to folded against his back. From there, those black wings became black clothes encasing the skin of a human and Ashton had transformed. He stood before his mortal enemy as a man, no longer just a boy or an adolescent dragon.
"You are wrong," Ashton said after a long moment. "I will never be the killer you want me to be." He turned his back on the Dragonslayer and walked away - away from his chance to ever avenge his parents and the rest of his kindred. It wasn't what he was leaving behind, but what he was heading towards. Ashton had a heavy weight taken from around his neck and with that freedom came peace. At the bottom of the pool of glacier melted water, the sword's song came to a close.