A Short Work of Fantasy: The Altar of Orion By J.B. Lewis

It was taking too long. The slow grind of the engine struggled up the hill and protested as Storm applied additional pressure to the accelerator. If he didn't make it in time... His companion, Sunny, hit the console in frustration and spewed epithets as the vehicle choked and stalled on the gravel road. Storm wiped the sweat from his brow, grabbed the carefully wrapped bundle and kicked open the rusted door of the vehicle before hopping out. Sunny followed suit as they both began to trot up the serpentine gravel road.

They weren't far now. Maybe they would make it. Maybe they would have some luck, just this once. Maybe the Grimlithe really had been left behind on that ship. Sunny slipped on the loose gravel, pulled himself up and continued to run, occasionally looking behind him to make sure that they weren't being followed.

"I can see it Storm!" he suddenly yelled. Storm felt sick as his friend warned of the Grimlithe's approach. The hunter of mages still had their scent.  Storm did not look back, his dark brow became darker and he pushed forward on the loose gravel even harder. Sunny pulled a dagger from his trousers and picked up speed with his friend. His hands began to exhibit the faintest hue of blue, a fact that he waved at Storm.

"My hands are starting, it might be too late."

Indeed, it did feel like it was too late. Storm could feel the heat of the Grimlithe. It hung in the air like thick oil and clung to his skin like a wool cloak. The hill's incline began to decrease and Storm knew that the summit was near. He could see the stone altar, stacked six courses high, consisting of smooth non-vesicular basalt rocks. The rocks were all perfectly  rectangular, as if they had been cut and formed by human hands. As they neared the Altar, Sunny's hands changed into a deep, dark blue,  the color tapering off into his wrists.

"Get to the Altar!" Sunny shouted to Storm.  He had to shout out his command as the  air was suddenly alive with a low rumble resembling thunder. The air smelled of acidic volcanic ash and was hard to breath on the account of its heat. Storm nodded and continued to the alter as Sunny stopped running and turned to face the Grimlithe.

The Grimlithe was covered in armor; thick discs of oily black covered its body. Its face was obscured by a thick gray cloud of moving ash and its feet padded against the gravel in an eerily silent manner. Small fires were starting within the vegetation that grew alongside the road, and the smell of ash and sickly sweetness permeated the atmosphere.

Sunny stilled himself and looked into the blue of his hands. They were ready.  He took his dagger and cut deep into them, allowing blood to seep onto the ground below. As soon as the blood made contact with the gravel, it transformed into an indigo hued flame that reached into the troubled sky, momentarily engulfing its maker. Once the flames died down, Sunny stood, seemingly weakened by the process, but standing none the less. Next to him stood his Carthic. The Carthic's body was oily, black and slick looking. It had no features and the surface of its face was completely smooth except for an occasional ripple.

Sunny did not speak to his faceless companion, nor did it speak to him. Instead his Carthic stepped forward, gracefully, almost like a dancer, facing the Grimlithe in a defensive stance. It was ready to fight for its master's life.

The Grimlithe reduced its approach as it neared Sunny, seemingly eyeing the Carthic warily. It spoke, its fiery, ashen filled breath filled with slight amusement.

"Son of Uroch, step aside and call off your Carthic and I will spare your life."

Sunny smiled weakly, mustering what little bravado he had left. If he was going to die today, he would do so as his father had; smiling in his enemy's face.

"I will spare YOUR life if you cease your hunt and return to your lands beyond the Well. Otherwise, face the wrath of my Carthic and die!"

As if on cue, the Carthic took one step towards the Grimlithe. The Grimlithe chuckled dryly and raised  its arms high above its ash covered face, clasping its hands together in an almost pray-like manner. The ash that was orbiting its face suddenly became motionless and hung in the air as if it had been stopped in time.

"Wixon brynox copen," Sunny whispered the command fervently to his Carthic . He used his last bit of manka to fortify his defender.

A beam of energy erupted from the Grimlithe's mask of ash, its brightness causing Sunny to fall back, protectively covering his eyes with his hands. He tripped over a rock in the road and felt himself falling backwards into a stand of prospers grass, its thick needles digging into his flesh.

His Carthic threw out a ecther sphere; a thick ball made up of its own matter, which absorbed most of the Grimlithe's assault.  As the sphere absorbed the Grimlithe's  energy, it became bloated, expanding two folds in a matter of seconds. It wouldn't be long before the sphere would not be able to contain the assault.

Stay tune for the next segment of The Altar of Orion...