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Wesimbi / the Old One
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Date Posted: 19:07:51 08/31/05 Wed
The phoenix-prince and the little Jellicle walked down the street of diamond toward the Dragon King's palace, and the walk seemed to take a very long time. Wesimbi said nothing and both of them looked in wonder at the dark statues lining the street, strange forbidding shapes that seemed to twist and writhe without moving. The phoenix's golden talons clicked quietly on the smooth diamond, leaving no mark, but Nashota walked silently on her feline feet. Wesimbi felt the hammer of her pulse, and it steeled his own resolve. Should the need arise, they would be able to pass the Heartpair very quickly, for they were small - the dragon-kin could only rise and land from the vast circular black stone in the center of the city, for even without physicality their sheer presence was monumentally large.
The pair approached the castle itself, a structure built into the vertical wall of the fathomless cavern, towers upon towers, walls twenty feet thick lined with battlements, minarets and cathedral windows dwarfed by the height of the walls they were set in, the most magnificent graceful structure ever created, carved like the rest of the city from the single white stone that glowed its shadowless light. Wesimbi looked up at the castle - up and up and up - and while he was awed at its alien beauty he was also struck with melancholy by its complete lack of purpose. It was created to daunt and intimidate, and its facade of strength was needless, for what enemy, even if he dared to raise an army against the Dragon King, would stand against the complete power of the dragons, a power so absolute that it was entirely beyond reckoning? He decided that the castle, though beautiful, was very sad, like a grand anointed warrior who could not move his legs. Purposeless.
"Come," he murmured to Nashota, and took her hand as they began the climb to the front gate. The stairs were wide and shallow and very broad, lined with fountains spouting the strange dark water that seemed oddly quiet for their size. At the top was a great courtyard lined with solid columns, covered in intricate carvings, each of which would have taken twenty Jellicles to span with linked hands. There was no portcullis, no bar, in fact no visible means of defense at all save the doors themselves, shining black stone doors ten times as tall as Wesimbi with no mark or feature.
Wesimbi noticed Nashota's frightened eyes and smiled at her reassuringly. "Remember, anwe," he whispered, "size is relative. Remember the ants in the world of free air - how you tower over them! So will we feel, standing before the World Rock, but remember the ants and be glad you have at least what size you do." The Jellicle giggled, and Wesimbi took great comfort from her smile. "Now, then. The time has come."
And with those words, as though on cue, the great black doors opened. They opened with a vast ponderous slowness, continuing their long progression outward long after the visitors had slipped through, and the rumbling followed them through the entrance hall. The hall was as large as Nashota's entire village back in the West, and the walls were hung with tapestries of battles and dragonlore in vivid rippling colors, and in iron braziers on the walls torches as large as bonfires lit the way. Beneath their feet the floor was made of countless flawless diamonds, each as large as Wesimbi's head and fitted together perfectly so that the floor was smooth. "A wealth beyond the combined dreams of all men ever created, and he uses it to tile his house," Wesimbi said softly. "Remember this, Nashota. Your eyes are honored."
As they progressed the diamonds in the floor were in turn clear white, pale yellow, bright green, blood red, blazing gold, and finally a deep crystalline blue. Looking at the blue diamonds, Wesimbi smiled to himself but said nothing. At the end of the hall was another set of doors, black again but not quite so large as the first and bound with some shining black metal that reflected the torchlight brilliantly. These opened soundlessly as the visitors approached, and they passed into the audience chamber of the King.
It was a room as large as a city of men, and fifty feet past the doorway the floor abruptly rose - out of the rock from which the castle was built had been carved a small mountain, encrusted with gems and spheres of precious metal that flashed and glittered constantly with an almost unbearable beauty. The walls were lined with piles of gems and gold and silver, and several of the piles were of substances that even Wesimbi did not recognize, things precious beyond the reckoning of the world of free air. "But a fraction of his treasure," Wesimbi told Nashota, not bothering to keep his voice down. "Display pieces only. You can be assured that there are many more rooms of this size filled to overflowing The things he truly values are kept hidden in the deeps, for his eyes only."
The far wall of the chamber, beyond the mountain, was entirely gold; and, it seemed, slightly convex. Nashota pointed out that it did not seem quite to fit with the lines of the ceiling or the floor, and Wesimbi put a hand on her shoulder. "That," he said, "is but one claw of the King's left front foot. That entire wall."
His words hung heavy in the air and Nashota looked at him in shock...and just then there was a sudden sound from high above them. Someone was laughing.
As Gabriel, Rio, and Gwenneveire began their southward flight, and Sema, Kira, and Khanada prepared to go east, waiting for Narcissa's decision; as Cassiel sat down and faced Azrael bravely; as Damian approached Raziel and her companion from one direction and Evan and Michael from another and Neva and Phisto from yet another; as Jeffrey and Negasi stealthily approached Alexis; as Angelina stood irresolute on the shores of the freshwater sea and Nobel Nomis followed her trail with tireless zeal; as Kaleadora, Dante, Thorongil, the unicorn, and Trebor talked of the upcoming journey: as all of this was happening in the world of free air, in the heart of the world Wesimbi and Nashota looked to the summit of the mountain of jewels and beheld the World Rock.
"Do not look so surprised," the man called down, lounging in a golden throne with one leg cocked over the delicately carved arm. "I have found it inconvenient to meet with land-dwellers in my physical form. So, as my dear son has deduced, I leave it behind for a time and take on a more...intelligible form."
Moving with the suddenness of a falling raindrop, the man was on his feet and leapt down the mountain faster than the eye could follow, alighting on the floor without a sound. Wesimbi fell to one knee immediately, bowing his head deeply, and Nashota followed suit at once with all the fluid elegance of her kind. They heard the tap-tap-tap of the King's boots on the stone floor, which stopped about fifteen feet from them.
"I must admit, you have done well." The voice was deep and rich, the kind of voice so powerful and rolling that it seems you can almost smell it. "I knew that you would come, of course, but such dramatic flair! It speaks to my artist's heart. Rise, son, let me get a look at you."
As he took his feet again, Wesimbi let one of his feathers brush Nashota's arm - combining reassurance with a silent order to remain still. He raised his eyes and beheld the form his father had chosen to take for this meeting. A human form, but not one that had ever been seen in the world of free air: a man as tall as Wesimbi with fine but not overly-pronounced muscles, skin white as candle-wax against hair of flaming crimson with a sheen of gold, eyes of solid blue without the infringement of white or pupil. He was dressed with surprising simplicity in a rich red doublet embroidered with gold in a pattern that made Wesimbi's eyes hurt and tall boots of what looked like leather. On his head was set a simple thread of gold from which hung a small red jewel.
The King looked Wesimbi up and down, arms folded and an appraising smile curling the corners of his mouth. "You look well, fire-prince. You may speak."
"Thank you, father-master," Wesimbi said, bowing his head briefly. "I am greatly honored to come bodily into your presence."
"Yes," the King agreed absently. "It is long by your reckoning since one of my fire-sons came to call. Sad; you make good company. So vibrant, such independence." He turned to look at Nashota, still kneeling, and the smile widened. "Rise, Nashota of the Jellicles, daughter of the West. I would look in the eyes of the child who defeated my mighty gate-keeper."
When Nashota stood and looked at him she could hardly keep from trembling. The King studied her much as he had studied Wesimbi, and then took a step closer. His breath smelled of some distant opulence that Nashota had never imagined might exist. For the rest of her life, she would often pause to linger over some exotic scent, trying without success to recapture the Dragon King's breath as she looked into his blank blue eyes.
The King laughed again, a warm hearty laugh. "Nashota - morning song. I think not. Talenashi, I name you, storm singer!"
Nashota looked at Wesimbi and saw him smiling, and found the strength to smile, too. The King looked between them and nodded. "Such strength in friendship. It touches me even now, old as I am. It's been such a long time since I walked in the free air. Come, children, tell me a story." The King walked back to the mountain of jewels and sat on the edge, crossing his ankles and folding his arms again with an expectant smile.
Wes approached him with Nashota carefully behind. "If you please, my lord," he said. "We have come very far and through great peril to speak with you. It is a matter of some importance."
"Oh, leave the matters of state for later. I wish for a story." There was a dangerous mildness in the deep voice, a hint of warning, but Wesimbi was undaunted. He stood strongly, folding his arms in a calculated mimickry.
"Lord father, my brothers are too free in the upper world. They take physical form and slaughter innocents."
"If they are hungry, let them eat."
"Dragon-kin need not eat of the flesh of the world." Wesimbi's voice was hard. "They hunt for sport."
"What business is it of yours what your brothers do?" The King lifted a ruby the size of his fist and tossed it from hand to hand. "Now sit down, fire-son, and listen to a story. He gestured and Wesimbi sat, looking surprised. The King smiled genially at Nashota. "Tell us a story, Talenashi - a story of the sunlit world to warm a cold memory. And perhaps afterward we shall discuss more boring matters."
Wesimbi looked at her steadily. There was nothing he could do - their fate, and the fate of so many others in the world above, was suddenly in Nashota's hands.
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