Melabeth Forgive Me, For I Am Sin! (35 page)

My brother was an aspiring
writer before he passed away. He only finished one short story, but still managed to leave a legacy. I felt lead to take up where my brother left off and write the stories we used to tell each other. In doing so, not only am I keeping his memory alive, but also sharing a vision. The character Nicks in my book is my representation of my brother and my cherished memories of him. I would like to share his one finished story. I am proud to add his story to the end of my book. I dedicate this to you, Nick.

By:  Nicholas B. Hood

     Once there was a creature known only as the Basilisk.

It was a monster easily over a hundred feet long, its head towering twenty feet above the ground.  It most closely resembled a gigantic snake, but looked much like a dragon with its massive jaws full of ivory sabers.  A spiny black crest like a reptilian wing, adorned its head.  Its back was covered in bright warning colors of red green and yellow. Its belly was like shinning black obsidian with scales as hard as stone. And its eyes, they were horrible, lidless black holes with an eerie glow from somewhere within.   

The Basilisk did not slither upon the ground like a serpent, but rather moved lofty and upright, holding his head high with evil pride. He left a path of destruction where ever he went; shrubs and trees would wither and die at his passing. Rocks in his path would split before his will, and water through which he passed became polluted and foul. Any man or mortal creature who looked upon the Basilisk would be filled with horror and immediately die, such power of evil was there in him.

It is on one such path of destruction that this story begins.

He arose at dawn having no fear or respect for the sun. Rising from a hole of his own making in the face of sloped rock carved smooth by a once great river, whose rushing water from that half unearthed rock once fell. Now the water from that river, which once flowed clear and strong, was thick and gray. Water that was once cool and pure was now steaming hot and foul. It slipped and oozed its way down the rock face, gathering at the bottom where it moved sluggishly down the
riverbed, carrying with it the dead victims of its poisonous vapors.

All around the vegetation was shrunken and dead. The trees were dry leafless shambles of lifeless wood. No birds were chirping, no cock did crow, and nothing stirred. For all creatures big and small there in that place were among the dead. All murdered by the abyss filled eyes and poisonous breath of the Basilisk.

With his head already above the trees, he looked down upon his carnage. He lifted his nose to smell the air and as he did his crest, which was folded down against his back in sleep, unfurled and crowned his magnificent head.

Now fully rested, the Basilisk left his temporary dwelling to seek further destruction elsewhere.

He traveled with speed greater than that of birds and left a path of decaying vegetation twice his own body width as he went. After long he came upon the foothills of snow capped mountains.  His eyes beheld their desolate peaks and he thought to turn and seek more populated areas when his nose caught a familiar scent. It smelled of burning iron, of a metal working forge.

The Basilisk’s eyes flickered like burning embers in a dying fire. His jaw lowered revealing razor sharp teeth and his mouth salivated sizzling acid with the thought of humans. In his mind he could hear their screams and see them running in horror before his great evil.

The smell led him to a pass through the mountains and into their hidden places. His way was blocked by sheer walls of rough black stone where mountains melted into one. So strong was his will that the rock cracked and split and the Basilisk wormed his way through.

At that same moment, in the valley below, the dwarf swung his wood ax, splitting yet another log cleanly into.  The day had grown long and Hamfast was growing weary of his daily toil. He stopped a moment whipping his brow with a handkerchief from his pocket before chopping a few more logs for the evening cook fires. From the west, just below the mountain peaks, the sun was casting tall shadows across the valley when the dwarf had finished.

It seemed to Hamfast that he had been doing this kind of last minute wood chopping a lot of late. There was never enough time for wood chopping with all the endless work in the forge below. Yawning, Hamfast leaned on the handle of his wood axe to rest a moment before he would have to haul the wood to the cook fires.

As he rested, his eyes wondered upon the Titan Peaks, they completely encircled the valley, cradling it, standing like sentinels against time. This was his valley, all of it, the Valley of Shadows. And his pride, his inheritance, venting from a crevasse in the valley floor, laid Thrawldains Forge. The forge where jewels were made deep in the earths secret places. It was the ultimate form of dwarven expression, the art of catching and forming light. It was the dwarves’ greatest gift to this world; that of gleaming gem stones.

Hamfast Goodnfat was an average looking dwarf, only slightly taller than four feet and quite plump with a long curly black beard streaked with gray. He dressed plainly, even for a dwarf, and you would hardly know he was lord of the land but for his shining mail shirt and a set of large golden keys hanging from his belt. But he was a rich man and he knew it, or at least most of the time he did. Sometimes he thought that between his nagging wife, his idiot children, his lazy workers, and their lazy wives, it was a wonder they didn’t all starve.   

Hamfast’s rest was interrupted as something strange caught his attention that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The dwarf was blinking franticly. He could not believe his own eyes as their gaze beheld a gigantic snake winding down the side of the mountain, its body waving like a flag in the wind. He nearly fell over his ax from the shock of it.

Rubbing his eyes, he could see that it was moving rapidly towards his orchard. Some of the precious fruit trees were turning black and withering away. The dwarf could watch no more and he sprang into action.

The Basilisk reared up instinctively at seeing the dwarf rushing towards him, waving an ax and screaming franticly. The Basilisk was so bewildered that the dwarf was upon him before he could react further. Hamfast struck furiously, his ax thudding harmlessly against the Basilisks armored scales again and again. The Basilisk was so dumbfounded that he simply watched as the dwarf rain blow after blow.

Hamfast was tiring, swinging his ax slower and slower when the Basilisk roared in an exasperated tone, “Excuse me?”

The dwarf was so shaken he nearly leapt out of his own skin. He stepped back nervously, his eyes tracing their way up the Basilisk’s scaly body. When his eyes finally met the Basilisk’s gaze, his ax dropped from his grip and he stood paralyzed with fear. “Well?” said the Basilisk. Crooking his head and showing his teeth, he almost appeared to be grinning.

“Well, eh…beggin yer pardon sir, but eh…” the dwarf stammered. “Would ya mind not destroying me orchard? I wouldn’t mind if ya was hungry er somthin, but I just can’t stand ta see good food go to waste. I mean just cause ya don’t like fruit don’t mean ya can’t let other folks enjoy it. I mean eh…Well where’s the sense in that?!”

The Basilisk was laughing now, a sound that was like rumbling from deep in the earth’s volcanic center. “You really are bold dwarf.” The Basilisk mused. “Very well, just point me in the direction of the nearest human settlement, and I’ll be on my way.”

      “Humans!” the dwarf spat. “Why ya won’t find none of their kind round here. What would ya want with their scum any how?” Hamfast seemed to forget whom he was talking to. “Why if ya ask me, every last one of them should be hunted down and skinned alive like the filthy animals they are. Those lolly lay about no account sons of…”

“I’m not interested in your racism dwarf.” The Basilisk interrupted. “I like humans, their flavor is exquisite. Which is more than I can say for you. You have a nasty fairy stank all over you.”

The dwarf made a funny face. “Yuck! I like meat an all, but there’s no way I’d ever eat anything that lives in its own filth the way humans do. I’m having a feast tonight, but sorry no humans on my table.”

“Is that an invitation?” asked the Basilisk.

The dwarf was confused.  “Invitation to what?”

“To your feast of course,” offered the Basilisk.

“Well it’s not feast per say, it’s more like a…” Hamfast managed before the Basilisk interrupted again.

“Then it’s a deal. I’ll stop destroying your orchard and you’ll feed me. So lead the way. Oh, and call me Basilisk.” The Basilisk didn’t ask for the dwarf’s name.

“Yes of course Mr. Basilisk, sir.” Hamfast didn’t know what else to say. He couldn’t figure out how it had come to this. What would his wife say? But with nothing else to do for it, he led the way.

The Basilisk was far too big for the front entrance to the forge, so Hamfast led him around to the back door. The rear entrance was very large and the storerooms beyond dwarfed even the Basilisk. They passed through room after room, each one containing enough stored food to feed an army for a lifetime.

Even the Basilisk had to be impressed when they reached the dining room. The walls and ceiling sparkled with the light of countless gems. Six pillars of spiraling silver and gold ran the length of the rectangular room. A long wooden table surrounded by ornately carved chairs stood gracefully upon clawed feet. Immense candelabras of gold and platinum made a shinning row along the table’s surface. Two fireplaces and twelve sconces painted the room with colored light; the effect was something like magic.

“Wait here while I…” Hamfast paused for a moment, struggling to think of an excuse to leave the room. “… Ah, check on dinner.” The dwarf then rushed out through another door way and disappeared through the hallway beyond, yelling as he went. “Gretchen, I’m home, and guess who’s coming to dinner!”

The smell of cooking food permeated the air as the Basilisk made himself comfortable, coiling his length in one corner of the room. He could hear Hamfast and his wife arguing from somewhere in the caverns beyond. “I can’t believe we live in a constant state of famine and you’re inviting guests to dinner!”  Gretchen was saying.

“I saw him through the window; he looks big enough to eat this whole place.”

“It’s not like I had a choice, Gretchen!”  Hamfast answered angrily.  “He sort of insisted.” 

“We could have been happy living back home, and you could have taken that job with my father, but nooo, you had to drag us out to this god forsaken wilderness, for crying out loud!”  Gretchen moaned.  “Why I ever married you is beyond me!”

Hamfast sounded really angry now.  “Now don’t start that again, Gretchen, and I mean it!  You always say that when things don’t go right, but this guest situation is only temporary.  I’ll think of something. I always do.”   

The Basilisk could hear Gretchen stomping off. “You better!  You better, or you’ll be sleeping alone!”  She threatened as she went. 

The Basilisk knew she was long gone when he heard Hamfast saying, “
Hmph, like I care!”

Dinner got under way without much more delay.  Before long the food was on the table and everyone was seated.  There were twelve of them in all, including the Basilisk: Hamfast; his
wife; his two sons, Twillin and Dillin; his daughter Mhim; his three indentured servants:  Burbeer Butterblack, Pikey Potterwheel, Furwhin Firejewl; and their wives: Applecake, Rose, and Tofu.

The table was filled with food, so much food that the Basilisk wondered when everyone else would arrive.  There were six sides of beef, twelve turkeys, thirty meant pies, a hundred other pies, ten kegs of beer, fifty different plates of vegetables, a large bowl of assorted fruit, cakes, cookies, truffles, pudding, noodles, stacked loaves of bread, five potatoes as large as men, and a barrel of gravy to boot. 

The dwarves said no grace and gave no etiquette; they simply dug in, eating like hungry pigs.  There was no conversation and for a long while the only sounds was that of rampant chewing. 

Hamfast nearly choked when Twillen asked the Basilisk to “please pass the salt.”  He smacked Twillen in the back of the head and called him an idiot under his breath.  Twillen just looked confused, and Hamfast sighed as Gretchen threatened Twillen with a wave of her long wooden spoon. 

Amazingly, at the end of the meal, all of the food was gone.  Twillin and Dillin actually fought over the last meat pie which Hamfast took and ate greedily.  The Basilisk was stuffed, and he had to admit to himself that the meal was pretty good, but he told the dwarf that he preferred his meat spoiled.  A full belly always made him sleepy, so the dwarf led him to an empty storeroom, where he slept for hours.

It was early morning when the Basilisk awoke. The dwarves had just finished mid breakfast, that’s between first
and third breakfast, and were preparing to return to the forge. Since the Basilisk was awake, and there never were many visitors, Hamfast offered to take him on a tour of the forge its self. Perhaps out of morbid curiosity the Basilisk accepted.   

The forge was not close at hand, the way was a good hours journey.  Hamfast led the way with the Basilisk following closely behind him, while Furwhin, Burbeer, Pikey, Dillin, and Twillin all lagged far behind.  They traveled down a wide tunnel that spiraled steeply towards the forge below.  Along the way there were many wondrous examples of dwarven art. 

The tunnel was dimly lit by strangely luminous crystal rods, held by iron hands, jutting from out of the stone walls.  These crystal rods came in pairs, one on each side, every few feet.  A little less frequent were white marble archways that resembled the ribs of whales.  Before each archway came a set of statues depicting dwarven heroes, the shinning plaques on their bases told the stories of their brave deeds.

Though the presence of the Basilisk was like a blight upon their world, nothing could break the dwarven spirit, and they sang with pride an enchanted song of dwarven lore to pass the time.