Whoever wishes to take on this weekly challenge is welcome to grab the banner and use it on their blog. It is a testament to stay in the constant writing mode, no matter what setbacks jump in your way. Writing is a healing process for me today and it began as such. Anyone who uses it as a similar tool, I invite you on this journey.
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Valence went into the forest with the Trapos, eyes tied by a cloth and hands bound. Every so often, he jounced over the ground, slipping on some rock or root, and felt the closeness of a spear near his face. They were taking all precautions that he did not slip away from their capture. He thought of the demon that came after Mefist and he through the ley, and what it could have been. The manner that it hissed and struck made him panic, and neither of them wanted to stay around long enough to see what else it was capable of. Stepping away from one threat and into the arms of another, he thought. At least this one isn’t trying to cut me in half yet.
Specks of light moved over the bind covering his eyes, and the beams grew strong and soft with the gentle kiss of wind on his nape. They stopped for a moment and he felt forward with his foot. It was a sudden halt and nothing about it sat comfortable with him. He reached his toe forward, but the ground appeared to drop away suddenly just inches ahead. His stomach sank and a
knot tangled in his throat.
His captors waited a moment more, exchanging words in their language, before he was tugged forcibly left by the bonds. His whole body lurched in the chosen direction and hands instantly went to his shoulders to hold him straight.
“Don’t fight,” one of the Trapos demanded.
“Does it look like I’m fighting?” he asked.
“Demons know trickery like they know how to breathe.”
“Demon? You think I’m a demon? Look at my hair, scaly.”
A more firm grip, like two large fingers closing around his shoulder joint in a pinch, was the Trapos’ response.
Valence winced and settled himself in the discomfort as naturally as possible, but the hold on his shoulder along made him want to scream. He felt the cry rising in him. The snake had him by a vulnerable point, which was made twice as worse as his sword arm. Another short walk later, after the ground had gone from a decline to a flattened area, his bonds were cut and a hand bushed down on his back. His head snapped to the earth and the cover on his eyes was ripped off. He looked on the strangest species of weed. It covered his boots to the ankle, although it made no sound as he stepped onto it. Tiny spores, soft like cotton to his eyes, ran along the twisting stems of the weeds. He examined them closer and saw barbs rise off the spores, hidden beneath their fuzzy appearance. He tried to replant his foot as the weeds strung around the flat of his boot, but they held him down. The spores transfered in the process, clinging to his ankles.
“You will not want to struggle to much.” The Trapos that had sliced the ley gate sat on a stump a few yards ahead of him. “Tanglelock is a nasty weed. Carnivorous if you put your fingers too close. Lucky for you we’re justing putting your feet in.”
“I feel better already. Thanks for sparing me.”
“We will see how long that lasts.”
Valence glanced over the area. The Trapos sanctuary was both beautiful and devastating in ruins at the same time. The ground beneath them, outside the growth of tanglelock, was finished stone, but walls were around him in mishmash of fallen blocks and discarded piles of ancient brick. Weeds had claimed the piles, also. There was a hint of the sanctuary having been covered over at one time, for the remains of a ceiling was evident through from earth, stone and root. An unknown source of water trickled down the walls and vanished into the grooves worn into the perfect floor. He stared ahead past the Trapos male, to a court of more fierce looking snakes. They sat in a fine row, each in a chair molded from the room. He thought he saw amusement on their faces, and more on their flicking tongues.