Post by Seek on May 28, 2011 3:14:37 GMT 10
Title: Basilisk 2
Rating: PG
Word count: 349
Pairing: Clary/Mattes
Round/Fight: 4/A
Summary: Part of the Open Ends series. Mattes is alone, against the Basilisk.
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Ikran. Basilisk, we’ve named him, for his mastery of what the mages call fear magic. Edrin is whimpering now, the red fire of his Gift wrapping around him like a second skin. I can’t see a trace of Ikran’s magic, and I don’t expect to.
I hold the dagger tight in my hand. A knife through a mage’s ribs will kill just as well as anything else, and…and I think about what it takes to kill in cold blood. To clamp a hand over a man’s mouth so he can’t command with his Gift and to slit his throat.
To come at a man from behind and ram a poniard through the spot which means the kidney, which means death.
I wonder if I still have it.
Armpit. Neck. Thigh. Groin. So many soft places where a single blow can kill, and will kill, and I breathe as shallowly as I can, pressing myself against the unyielding stone of the wall.
I’ve been ordered to stay back. Dogs like me; we don’t have any magic. We’d be helpless in a mage-fight, but Edrin’s losing. It’s evident from the tight fear in his breathing, from the wavering glow of his Gift.
Clary, I think, holding the dagger so tight the wire-wrapped hilt bites into my hand. Clary.
If Edrin can’t do it, I can’t run away, no matter what my orders are. This is our best chance to bring Ikran down, to see him in hobbles, if not dead. And no one would blink if I killed the Basilisk, here and now. He’s too dangerous to be kept alive, and no one would expect a Giftless Dog to take him.
I think about Clary and how Ikran must have hurt her, and suddenly, I find out that I still have it after all. The quiet, coiled anger. The desire to kill.
The glow of Edrin’s Gift winks out suddenly, and there is nothing but darkness, pressing against my eyes. Edrin is out of this now; it is just a Basilisk and a Dog.
And this Dog is more than ready.
Rating: PG
Word count: 349
Pairing: Clary/Mattes
Round/Fight: 4/A
Summary: Part of the Open Ends series. Mattes is alone, against the Basilisk.
-
Ikran. Basilisk, we’ve named him, for his mastery of what the mages call fear magic. Edrin is whimpering now, the red fire of his Gift wrapping around him like a second skin. I can’t see a trace of Ikran’s magic, and I don’t expect to.
I hold the dagger tight in my hand. A knife through a mage’s ribs will kill just as well as anything else, and…and I think about what it takes to kill in cold blood. To clamp a hand over a man’s mouth so he can’t command with his Gift and to slit his throat.
To come at a man from behind and ram a poniard through the spot which means the kidney, which means death.
I wonder if I still have it.
Armpit. Neck. Thigh. Groin. So many soft places where a single blow can kill, and will kill, and I breathe as shallowly as I can, pressing myself against the unyielding stone of the wall.
I’ve been ordered to stay back. Dogs like me; we don’t have any magic. We’d be helpless in a mage-fight, but Edrin’s losing. It’s evident from the tight fear in his breathing, from the wavering glow of his Gift.
Clary, I think, holding the dagger so tight the wire-wrapped hilt bites into my hand. Clary.
If Edrin can’t do it, I can’t run away, no matter what my orders are. This is our best chance to bring Ikran down, to see him in hobbles, if not dead. And no one would blink if I killed the Basilisk, here and now. He’s too dangerous to be kept alive, and no one would expect a Giftless Dog to take him.
I think about Clary and how Ikran must have hurt her, and suddenly, I find out that I still have it after all. The quiet, coiled anger. The desire to kill.
The glow of Edrin’s Gift winks out suddenly, and there is nothing but darkness, pressing against my eyes. Edrin is out of this now; it is just a Basilisk and a Dog.
And this Dog is more than ready.