Thursday, January 16, 2014

Flash Fiction: Hot Enough to Burn Dragons

Too tired to get a decent full update tonight.  An outline also went missing for Dead Man Stew, but still, I did something rather than bitch about it.  Here is a quick flash fic of one kind or another.  Enjoy!

Shanghai, 1900.  Days after the Boxers Rebellion.

"I loved Shanghai.  But alas, even you damn Mortals can screw up anything, can't you?"  The dragon, disguised as he was in the form of a old fat man, still had the tone Ra had expected.  Maybe it was the only shape the greedy bastard could fit into, or maybe the dragon misunderstood it.  Ra still saw the irony in it.

But Ra didn't time or the patience to make jokes with this creature.  "My king has sent me here on business.  You should have some more respect, he chooses to let you stay in his realm unchallenged, monster.  Watch what you say."

Ra stood the height of a average man, and he looked British.  His accent was that of a street born londoner, but his clothes was a well-to-do suit of an american style.  A golden pendant of a bird was clipped on the vest over his heart.  His dishwater blond hair glimmered a bit in the hazy light of the opium den the Dragon had taken them to meet.

The dragon waved a hand.  He puffed again on a small bit of tobacco.  Ra resisted the urge to burn it off his face.

"What Realm?  What King lets his subjects fight one another?"

"They aren't his subjects."  Ra heft the gold bar onto the table between them.  "They can do whatever they want to one another.  If they don't bend the knee, he chooses to leave them be.  They don't help the enemy.  Unlike others I can think to name."

The dragon shrugged.  "This is what you expect to pay for the Skull?"

"Its the price He allowed.  Take it, if want a piece of advice, Dragon."

The dragon narrowed his eyes.  "I don't listen to mortal lackeys of a angelspawned killer like the Wolf.  I do not fear Wolves, nor the sheep he sends."

The dragon snapped his fingers, a metallic clack of claws summoning a man with a long sword.  The man shoved the sword against Ra's throat.  "I have sheep cleaver, you see?  Power here is still power, mortal.  It belongs to those born to deserve it."

Ra closed his eyes, then opened them again.  "I'm no sheep, monster.  You ever hear the names of all of the Neven?  Ever hear the tones of the name of Shiva of Ra?"

A halo of hot light surrounded Ra.  It didn't touch his clothes, but the sword being held by the man turned white-hot, then slumped down, gravity changing it into liquid.  The Dragon stared down at the puddle of melted metal and steel.  His mouth slumped open.  "The Phoenix.  The Wolf sent-"

The dragon didn't finish the thought as Shiva of Ra incinerated the creature then and there.  He burned so hot that not even flesh made of fire could withstand it, blinding many of those who saw it.  All that was left was a crater, and a man walking away with a skull.