The Testran

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Writers Rift

Chapter 11 (v.1) - Our Conviction

Submitted: November 11, 2016

Reads: 125

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Submitted: November 11, 2016



There was no will save that invoked upon the man by the force of the gravity of the world. It pulled him down, closer and closer to the greenery below. He twisted and turned and flailed for he had no control of his own movement. The force of the wind pushing him upward, attempting to save his life to no avail, it simply served to make taking in a breathe that much more difficult. Stone of the mountain where the cave was born reached out a stone shoulder and met Terry’s own sending him into a falling spiral. He cried out as he fell, the sound of the shattering bones only muffled by the wind in his ear.

He hit the greenery and it called out to the wildlife around it with a splash. He was below the greenery  and within a liquid expanse colored black. The sun could not be seen through the plants above. His body was cold and numb, his mind a fog from the shock of the surprise blow to his body from the mountain. The cold of the water cradled him gently, the current carried him to an unknown destination from below. His arm bled out, his skull gushed a red unseen in the black of the water. Rock moles, snakes and fish all swam around him with curiosity and attraction to the smell. His consciousness wanted to give in to slumber, gently rocked and held so tightly by the frigid arms of a watery grave. Terry wished to let go of all that he held when he was conscious. Yet the voice of the witch would not allow him. She whispered to him. Called out unheard words in a voice muffled by the water in his ears.

Terry did not hear the witches words but her voice alone was enough to be an order of her will. She wanted him to survive and so he would not die. His body was still numb, his right arm a useless hindrance to him now as was his right leg. He could not open his eyes for he knew the water was unclean and so it would destroy his vision. He could taste the salt of the water.  With consciousness bringing back a semblance of awareness he could now feel the necessity for oxygen taking hold of him now. His stomach cramped as his body attempted to force him to take a breathe where he could not. He began to attempt at mending his broken bones before the grip of death replaced that of the cold, by way of suffocation.

An Emperor Lizard; The Pherizarn. The body of death in the Falkmoran marshes. The ruler of all things that stumble upon him. He is the Devil and the waters are his hell. He will be there where the smell of suffering comes to his snout. His maw of 136 blades that tear down trees and destroy skulls of Rock Moles. He is the God that walks amidst the blood of the warriors that are wounded from war. Bullets do not penetrate his diamond skin. His eyes are unaffected by the salt of the water for he can see even in the boiling bile of the decomposing corpses in the Avzenatinets own realm. He stands above to the height of 7 foot 5 inches on hind legs and there are many who are taller than he. His arms and hind legs adorned with claws that tear through stone itself, his arms powerful enough to  pull trees from the ground and toss them for ten miles. His tail is large enough to break through the flesh of the mountain if he swings it with enough force and even quiver the surface of the ground around him. His snout and nose are wide enough to hold his rows of teeth and rigid black tongue. His neck a meaty mass of muscle as are his legs and stomach. He is the Emperor of death and murder born to overthrow all and any whom come into his domain. His jaws clamped down on Terry’s right leg as he rose up from the depths of the blackness of the water. His leg was encased as a whole by the maw of the beast. His bones shattered instantly, his flesh shattered where the beast clamped down. It could have easily torn his leg off but its jaws showed mercy if only to drown his victim before eating.

Terry attempted to struggle inciting the beast to begin thrashing his head to and fro in an attempt to tire his prey. Terry wanted to cry out but only giving off bubbles and needed oxygen. He closed his mouth swallowing salt water. Bile rose in his throat but he swallowed. He could not see the menace that plagued him, he was simply a slave to its will as he was to gravity before him. His heart pounded, he was terrified, he was angry. An amalgamation of millions of different excitements mingled with the depressants of sorrows and dread creating a realization of a coming death and a fire to deny the reaper a new soul. Terry calmed himself as his adrenaline enhanced body gave over to the memories instilled into his mind by the witch allowing for the power of magic to now once again provide a needed weapon to him. He saw the warriors of the frontlines on a battlefield. They charged out, their flesh impenetrable, their bones like diamonds. They could not be killed save by those like themselves. They could only be killed by a being of which this creature was not.

Terry’s left hand became a precious stone forged within the depths of the Earth. His eyes became invulnerable to the salt of the marsh and he opened them. He could see the beast before him. The opponent that would fall to his hands. He jammed two fingers in the eye of the creature. The creature released him from its jaws and retreated, shaking off the pain. Terry took the time to heal his leg and right arm and shoulder before  hardening them as he did his left arms. The creature turned back to him. It would not be defeated by any, and neither would Terry. The creature rushed him with it jaws open wide. Terry reached out and the creature took hold of him arm and once again attempted to take him below. Terry then reached around jammed a hardened palm into the scales of the beast, the skin of the beasts armored head. The beasts flesh was thick but Terry attempted again and again to break through before finally reaching the creatures brain through its flesh, muscle and skull with his fingers, pushing down deeper, forcing his hand through the beasts exposed meat and tearing out a chunk of red mush from its head.

The sun peaked down to her in slight speckles of glints through the cracks where the leaves of the trees met each other high above. The gentle warmth of the winds lips left tiny kisses upon her bare frame as the marsh below her hugged tightly to her rump and thighs. She dug her hands into the soggy ground below and played with the balls of greenery and wet filth between her fingers. She gazed out into the marsh that surrounded and contemplated the fates of the man whom had taken her from Trepious just the other day.

“Owner” she breathed out in a gentle breath that was more of a melancholy song than a whisper. Terry had not jumped into the pool behind her like Trepious had taught her to do back when they attempted to use the big hidey hole for the second time. He jumped over the cliff and so the waterfall could not pull him along the headlong current to be with her. He was pulled away from her somewhere else. Probably drowned, probably eaten.  The shards of a memory of a day just before now began to take hold of her mind as she thought back to her now possibly deceased new owner. “Terry……Owner” her words danced on the breathe of a subtle sang phrase. He could be dead, he was most likely dead. He was not here and so he could be of no use to her survival now. He was not her shield and he was not her sword. He could not protect her from the wretchedness of the forest and so she would have to find another who could. It had only been a day and he had died so soon after meeting her.

She gripped the mud in her palms and pulled it from the ground, pressing the muck from both of her hands together and rolling them into on large ball. “Family” she said to herself “Terry Family”. She pressed her thumbs into the front of the ball and smiled at the eyes on the face of the ball. “Hello Terry…..Me -I’m Sparrah…….Family” she said. “Sparrah and Terry Family” . She spoke a phrase  to which she connected no meaning yet she smiled, she smiled because it made Terry smile, Terry smiled because it was something good, it was something that felt good… call Sparrah family. Like when Trepious would drink the happy water and laugh with Jaxton and then they would touch her between her legs and stick their dicks in her mouth and behind her. That did not feel good, not to her, but it felt good to them, that was why they smiled, and they would say she was a good girl. Was family like that? Was that what Terry meant, all of her owners had done that and they all smiled at her… some point or another at least. Some of them hit her a lot and then they would smile. Some of them made her kill things and then they would smile. They all smiled when she did things for them. She would have to do things for Terry?

Never leave each other” Terry said that in the safe cave. “Family means we never leave each other, we never let each other die……”. Terry had told her to never let him die? He had told her to never leave him? To care for him.

“Sparrah never let Terry die” she told herself remembering what family truly was meant to be. To never let Terry die. She had to find him, she had to be sure he was still alive or truly dead. She could not leave him, never. “Never never leave Terry” she said standing to her feet. “Never never let Terry die”. She turned and began to walk along the solid areas of the mud land shard where she was. “Never never” she said making her way into the green brush of the marsh and pushing her way through the bushes.

Thoughts of her owner/family began to flood her mind. She took in the air through her nose, allowing the action to signify the moment when he had mended her broken nose, healed her wounds with a simple touch and then proceeded to heal his own. She thought back to the time when he first took her into his custody. When he stole away with her life after first stealing away with Trepious and Jaxton’s. She came upon and raft buried in the brush, constructed and hidden by she, Trepious, The boy and Jaxton. The raft was made more like a canoe; folded inward and rounded a bit, large enough to fit at least five. Made of the wood of the hardstone trees, the most powerful trees known to man, breakable only by the wood of the hardstone trees themselves. Trepious had she and The Boy rob a man selling axes made of the wood and construct the raft with it. The wood was flexible enough to bed once chopped although they pretty much hallowed out a chopped down tree in the falkmore woods to build it. Leaves decorated the outside of it and the bottom as well, being threaded through the lining of the interior like nets. There were two ours for she and The Boy to paddle with.

Sparrah grabbed hold of the raft and began to pull the heavy structure through the brush and the mud.  She struggled, kicking up mud, the raft getting stuck on the bottom of the muck, She fell over, her finger losing a bit of flesh as they scraped against the wood of the raft. She let out tiny squeal as she hit the ground. She stood up and attempted again.

“Terry….Give breath” she said through her struggle.

“Terry……Hold life in hand” she continued as she attempted to singlehandedly pull the raft through the brush and down the slope to meet the water where it belonged. The sounds of snapping twigs and wet mud being forced from below the raft chattered heckles and taunts to her as they attempted to stop her will.

“Terry take Sparrah hurt away” she reminded the world. “Terry” she continued

“Terry strong” she said. Her muscles crying out for her to stop as she finally made it to the edge of the brush meeting the beginning of the downward slope where she initially sat.

“Terry…..witch”  she breathed out heavily. “Terry…….Sparrah find Terry” she said as she looped  around to the rear of the boat. “Terry never die….Sparrah never never leave Terry again” she pushed the raft. Her feet digging into the mud. Her body sinking deeper into the ground as she attempted to force the boat downward. The raft lay upon a slick surface barely inching forward,  mush gathering  below its heavy frame. She continued pressing her entire body weight into the construction attempting to force it over the mud hump. “Terry. Sparah never never leave side again” she groaned. She pulled back seeing no use to her struggle. She grabbed a paddle, made from a large branch and a thick flat piece of wood. She went around front smoothing out the mud in front, taking a few moments to pat the mud down in front of the boat. She went back behind the boat and shoved hard once more. She pressed her entire body into the structure until it finally moved forward  slowly, She pushed and pushed and pushed until the sun began to fall from the sky she finally got the boat in the water. She leaped into the boat and began to paddle through the marsh water.

“Sparrah never leave Terry again” she proclaim through exhausted breathes. “Never never”.

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