Up From Dungeon's Dwell
by Selvane Vladiva
The sun set over the great mountains to the south, the
faint red light slowing fading from the sky, as if the heavens
bled. Down in the valley below, the little village yawned
collectively, and the lights of the houses blinked out as the
inhabitants bedded down. Up above, the mountain was a looming dark
edge across the slowing fading sky, and the stars that blinked
into existence. A sheer black nothingness, void that blocked out
all within it's reach, reaching out a snapping up any light that
happened by. It's shadow played down upon the village engulfing
it in blackness.
Selvane looked down from on high at the quiet village,
pacified vicarious sly through it's peaceful ease with the world.
In his mind's eye, he saw the families preparing for bed.
Children snug in the covers, listening to Pa read stories by
candlelight. Couples in each others embrace, watching the glow
fade from the sky. The dog snug by the embers in the hearth or at
the foot of his master's bed. The wives and mothers sneaking in
for one last look at their dozing children before they finally
retired. Children begging for one last hug before finally turning
in, really this time, they promised. All was right and peaceful
in that small village, all was quiet. And then the music came.
It swelled up, in a deep roaring heave, roiling from the
depths of the mountains. First, a slight swirl of string, and
then deep brassy fanfare. It rolled across the floor of the
valley, into every home, into every child's mind. Yet, they
slept. *Can they not hear?* thought Selvane. A sense of
foreboding engulfed him. Overbearing dread took over the Ranger,
incapacitating him. He tried to call out. To warn the peaceful
people below, but nothing came out. All he could do was watch and
listen as the music built. He looked South.
The highest spire of the mountain cracked open like an
egg, and down from it spilt a thousand trails of vapor. Whispers
of soul, Selvane knew. Spirits flitted among the foothills,
growing ever closer to the enclave of peace. They floated meters
above the land, apparitions bent on revenge. Some bore chains and
lost expressions white, nearly transparent. Others came
thundering down on nightmare steeds, wielding swords of flame,
their mounts snorting smoke and brimstone. Others where ghouls of
shapeless smoke and ash, teeth and bristling hair, flying down
the mountain like rocks in an avalanche. Before the great flood
of spectres was a winged demon. A scaled gargoyle, skin black as
night, scaled and silent. His wings beat the air, their red veins
and bones glowing with each pump. His eyes were dark as the
mountains, like dark coals, waiting to be lit. From the great
brow above the eyes sprouted horns, like some surreal goat's
scalp, cleaved off and attached. The advance was lead by this
unearthly being, his wings pumping, winging down from the
mountain, foam dripping from his mouth, teeth glistening, an
otherworldly hunger needed to be satisfied. The music rose in
intensity, reaching a fever pitch.
Selvane watched in growing horror as ever more deranged
and mangled spirits spewed forth from the mountain, like so much
puss from a wound. His voice caught in his throat as he watched.
The vanguard demon approached the nearest house, and circled,
rising above it, like a vulture, sizing up carrion. Then, at the
top of it's rise, the wings folded back, and it dove, down in a
black streak against the stars. The window burst open, and
inside, Selvane saw a simple farmer and his wife, stricken with
surprise and fear in their bed. Both stood plastered to the
sheets, as if glued there by the demons gaze. It raised it's
sinewed arms toward the sky, dark claws growing up from nearly
human hands. The couple did nothing, locked in horror. The demon
approached. The music reached a crescendo. A claw came down.
<area= Kaetoonk, Chi-Lin detention facilities. Cell block 8f,
deep in the protective walls of the city. Cell of Selvane
Vladiva. Night>
Selvane awoke in cold sweat, breathing heavily. The music
still wafted through his consciousness. Modest Musgorsky's "Night
on Bald Mountain," he recognized now. The images of the farmer
and his wife still were running through his mind, imprinted on
the back of his eyelids. Every time he closed his eyes, Selvane
could see their stricken look, their sheer terror.
The demon's eyes, it's claws growing out of nothing.
He shook his head and moved to a sitting position, his legs
hanging off the side of his cot. Selvane looked around. Same
cell, black on black. The lighting strip casting a slight glow
around the dark surroundings. He shook his head.
*Nightmares,* he thought, *I'm too old to be scared of
visions,* but he was still shaken, just the same.
The door slid open, and Selvane looked up. Four burly
guards wearing all black uniforms pushed their way into the room,
and seized his arms roughly. Their grips were like iron. The
agents were of a different race than the other guards. Tall and
wide shouldered. All muscle and sinew. Flat faces that revealed
nothing. No nose to speak of. Wide mouths and small ears. Eyes
that were shaped like tear-drops set on end. They all looked
exactly the same in build, and face. *Clones?* Selvane mused.
He knew better than to say anything as they very roughly
made the trip to the elevator. The trip was short, and once
again, Selvane was shoved down the long hallway to the booking
offices. The blue uniformed pudgy was gone from the desk, and
Selvane noticed a figure lurking in the corridor he knew to lead
to the outside world. *Lunch break?* Selvane wondered.
One of his four escorts stepped behind the desk a punched
a few buttons. There was a slight whirr, and he handed Selvane a
card.
"Your identity," the guard said in a flat monotone as he
handed it to Selvane. Selvane accepted it with a newly free hand,
and examined it closely. Name, age, picture, standard identity. A
small black strip lined bottom.
"Hold still," one of the guards told Selvane in a voice
exactly like the other's. In his hand was a large syringe. There
was a poke, and the injection entered his blood stream.
*I hope that was a vaccination,* fretted the Ranger. The
man guard behind the desk handed Selvane his pack then nodded to
his partners.
"Your possessions," then, all the hands released him, and
a third familiar monotone addressed the figure in the shadows.
"He is now in your custody," and the smiling figure of
Nexxus Kline emerged from the corridor.