Sam Sykes - Black Halo

The Akaneed hummed in the distance, its reverberating keen rumbling up onto the shore and scattering the skittering things. The waves drew in a sharp inhale, retreating back to the open sea and holding its frothy breath as it went calm and placid. Sound died, sea died and Gariath resolved to die with it.

In the silence, the sound was deafening.

He recognised immediately feet crunching upon the sand. The pace was slow, casual, utterly without care or concern for the dragonman trying to die.

An old enemy, perhaps, one of the many faceless bodies he had torn and crushed and failed to kill, come for vengeance at the tip of a sword. Or maybe a new one, some terrified creature with a slow and hesitant pace, ready to impale him with a weapon clenched in trembling hands.

Or, if gods were truly intent on proving their existence, it might be one of his former companions. One of them might have survived, he reasoned, and come searching for vengeance. He listened intently to the sound.

Too heavy to be the pointy-eared human, he reasoned; she wouldn’t attack him until his back was turned anyway. And likewise, the feet were too deliberate to be the bumbling, skinny human with the fiery hands. That one would just kill him from a distance.

He dearly hoped it wasn’t the tall, brown-haired human woman. She would likely come all masked with tears, demanding explanations in sobbing tones while righteously insisting that the others hadn’t deserved to die. If that were the case, he would have much preferred the rat. Yes, the rat would come and give him a quick knife in the throat; surely that would kill even a Rhega suffering from a severe case of irony.

It pained him to think that the feet might belong to Lenk. The death he so richly deserved then would never come from the young man’s hands.

The others knew how to kill. Lenk alone knew how to hurt.

The feet stopped just above his head. Gariath held his breath.

No blow, no steel, no vengeance. The shadow that fell over him was warm rather than cold. Even against the setting sun, the heat was distinctly familiar and embracing, heavy arms wrapped gently around him.

He hadn’t felt such warmth since …

Almost afraid to, he opened his nostrils, drew in a deep breath. His body jolted at once, his eyes snapping wide open at a scent that instantly overwhelmed his senses and the stink of the sea alike. He opened his mouth, drinking it in and at once finding it impossible that it filled his body.

Rivers and rocks .

He looked up and saw black eyes staring down at him beneath a pair of horns, one short and topped with a jagged break. The snout that they stared down from was wrinkled and scarred, but taut, each twisted line a point of pride and wisdom. The frills at either side fanned out unenthused, crimson petals of a wilting flower that had not seen rain in a long time.

It was the eyes, alone untouched by age, that seized Gariath’s gaze. They were softer than his own black stare, but that softness only made their depth all the more apparent. Where his were hard and unyielding doors of obsidian, the eyes that stared down at him were windows that stretched into endless night.

The elderly Rhega smiled, exposing teeth well worn.

‘You know,’ he rumbled, the Rhega tongue deep and hard as a rock in his chest, ‘for someone who has such reverence for my stare, you could at least get up to talk to me.’

Gariath’s eye ridges raised half a hair. ‘You read thoughts?’

‘I don’t get much conversation otherwise.’ The elder returned the raised ridge. ‘Not impressed?’

‘I have seen many things, Grandfather,’ Gariath replied.

The elder considered him thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded.

‘So you have, Wisest.’

The elder scanned the beach, finding a nearby piece of driftwood half buried in the sand. Lifting his limp tail up behind him, he took a seat upon it and stared out over the setting sun. The light met his stare and Gariath saw the elder’s shape change as beams of light sifted through a spectral figure.

‘You’re dead, Grandfather,’ Gariath grunted.

‘I hear that a lot,’ the elder replied.

Gariath looked up and down the empty beach, bereft of even a hint of any other life.

‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘You would,’ the elder snorted. ‘The fact remains that you are the only one who has come by; you’re the only one who noticed. My point stands.’

‘Why aren’t you at your elder stone?’

‘I got bored.’

‘Grahta never left his stone.’

‘Why would he? Grahta was a pup. He would get lost.’

‘Ah.’

Gariath settled himself back on the sand, staring up at the orange-painted sky above. After a moment, he looked back to the elder.

‘Grahta,’ he said softly. ‘Is he …?’

‘Sleeping, Wisest,’ the elder replied.

‘Good.’

Another silence descended between them, broken only by the sound of the Akaneed’s murmuring keen rising up from below the waves. After an eternity of that, Gariath once again looked up.

‘Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing?’

‘Seems a bit unnecessary,’ the elder said, tapping his brow.

‘Then aren’t you going to ask me why?’

‘You are Rhega ,’ the elder replied, shrugging. ‘You have a good reason.’

‘So, you won’t try to stop me.’

‘I might have a hard time with that.’ The elder held up his clawed hand to the light, grinning as it vanished. ‘What with being dead and all.’

‘Then why are you here?’

‘I thought you might like some company while you waited to die.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Oh?’ The elder looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Was it not you who was just wishing that his humans would come visit him?’

‘Those thoughts were private,’ Gariath snarled, glowering.

‘Then you shouldn’t have thought them while I was standing right here.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ The younger dragonman turned his stare back up to the sky. ‘They’re dead.’

‘Possibly.’

‘Possibly?’

‘ You didn’t die.’

‘I am Rhega . I am strong. They are weak and stupid.’

‘Bold words coming from a lizard hoping to starve to death so a snake will eat him.’

‘Can you think of a better way to die, given the circumstances?’

‘I can think of a better way to live.’

‘Live?’ Gariath’s snout split in an unpleasant grin. ‘I’ve tried living, Grandfather. I’ve tried living without my family, living without other Rhega and living without even humans.’ He sighed, chest trembling with the breath. ‘Living was fine for a time, but it was too full of death for my tastes. Maybe dying will be better.’

‘There is nothing worth living for, Wisest?’

‘There was. Now, I have nothing.’

‘You have me.’

‘Yes, I do,’ Gariath grunted. ‘One thing I never seem to lack is dead Rhega .’ He waved a clawed hand at the elder. ‘I do not need you, Grandfather.’

‘What do you need, then?’

‘It’s not obvious?’

‘Not to you.’

‘I need to die, Grandfather,’ Gariath sighed. ‘I need to rid myself of all’ — he waved a hand out to the sky and sea — ‘this. I don’t need it anymore.’

‘You’ve had plenty of opportunities to die.’

‘I haven’t found the right one yet.’

‘They all basically end the same way, don’t they?’

‘Not for a Rhega .’

‘Ah, I see.’ The elder scratched his chin thoughtfully. ‘So, the right way is to lie down here and wait to die while contemplating the existence of weak, human gods?’

‘It’s a way.’