Post by Farrah on Mar 10, 2007 17:27:10 GMT -5
Traitors
Fiery green opts probed the expanse of ice. The only sounds were the wind whistling over the jagged mountains covered in packed snow and scraggly evergreens and the loud beating of an anxious heart. Her heart. Tala's heart.
Frozen chunks were picked up by the wind, dancing, twirling, until they were pelted at the face of the wolf, making her wince. But the eyes were still ever watching.
Earlier they were the spectators of the inevitable death of her brother.
Seath had inherited the title of pack leader after the death of his father, as was tradition. He had been a just and good ruler until he met his demise three days before. Ulric was next in line. Not according to Tala.
Tala had always hungered for power, just as she had thirsted for blood. Leadership was in her lineage, and the inner longing could not be silenced. Thus, she devised a plan.
A mercenary was hired secretly from a distant land. Conan was his name. He was not afraid to split flesh from bone or spill blood for pleasure. All were his enemies yet none were his enemies. None that would oppose him.
The night divine right of a Dragga was accepted was when the leader-to-be journeyed to the mountain Narok and was said to become one with the sky. Ulric’s time was tonight.
Tala waited gleefully on an overhang as her brother traveled steadily upward, climbing steep cliffs and slick drops. Conan waited hidden as planned. She could barely contain her joyful anticipation. The only sounds were the wind whistling over the jagged mountains covered in packed snow and scraggly evergreens and the loud beating of an anxious heart.
The following events happened quickly though they now replayed slowly in Tala’s mind: the large muscular wolf flying from behind the rock formation, the surprised yelp of the victim followed by a howl of pain; her struggling brother being overtaken as he and his attacker disappeared from view behind a large rock; the telltale smear of blood which was quickly being covered by the falling snow.
A smile etched her face as she now neared the peak of Narok. Her brother had been defeated. She was victorious. Legends would be told of the great Tala, daughter of Seath, who ruled in the death of her brother whose life had been sadly ended by an unexpected fall. Her features radiated with glee as she thought of all the mourning packmates who would easily accept her as a savior in dark times.
The pinnacle was now in sight. Each step seemed to take a lifetime as she confidently made her way to her journey’s end.
Finally, she arrived. Tala closed her eyes, resounding a triumphant howl announcing her brother’s demise. When her eyes opened again, she saw a dark shape lunging into her throat.
Tala choked out one last word as drips of her own blood fell onto her face from Ulric’s drenched maw: how.
“Everything you have done against me I have used against you. Conan has been listening to my orders and also helped in the faking of my own death. It is now your defeat that marks this day.†A smile etched his face as he looked into the clouding eyes of his sister. The only sounds were the wind whistling over the jagged mountains covered in packed snow and scraggly evergreens and the loud beating of a dying heart. Her heart. Tala's heart.