Old Gods

“I want those slaves to have the Preychaser off its moorings yesterday,” Archon Rakx growled side-long to the engineer beside him, his black eyes reflecting the dull green light of the hologram illuminating the chamber. The other D’Kali just nodded and turned to leave. All around the large war-room, D’Kali generals and soldiers were checking and re-checking with their commands, a flurry of activity to prepare for the coming storm. The ships that had been sent to defend the Xar’son had nod been heard from in three days, and it was now believed they had been intercepted by the larger and more numerous Solvani ships now approaching the planet.

“STOP!” a voice suddenly bellowed, silencing every other in the room. Every snout swivelled towards the great stone entrance way as silhouetted in the light stood a aged D’Kali. His remarkably purple scales were largely covered by deep red robes, trimmed in black and gold. In his claw he held a glittering, bladed staff, the head of which was adorned with a carving of the All-sire Roxal. “STOP THIS NOW!!” the voice repeated as the elderly priest stormed down the shallow steps towards the Archon. A murmur of voices began to growl and snarl among themselves as the figure rushed towards Rakx as fast as his aging legs would take him without tripping on his robes.

“Elder Xacrux, how…good of you to join us,” Rakx growled through gritted teeth as he recognized the figure. The Elder Priest has been dogging the Archon for a better part of the month now, rambling like an old drake about the folly of this coming war. “Come to see Roxal gives his warriors his final blessings?”

“Rakx, you MUST stop this, please!” the old priest growled back in hushed tones. “I have found the scrolls I have been seeking!” Before Rakx could protest, Xacrux thrust his free hand into a fold in his robes and pulled out a vellum scroll, shaking it at the Archon. Rakx hesitated and looked unconvinced at the sheen parchment for a few moments before unfurling it and beginning to read. “You see? ‘As the three-spawned stalkers burn in star fire, the warriors of the All-sire must stay their blades. For Roxal the Bloodied will need his kin to save their strength for a coming storm’” The Elder recited in urgent, hushed tones. “The three-spawned, Rakx! Your three ships! Surely you must see it!”

The rest of the room, which had gotten back to its business since the arrival of the High Priest was quite startled when Rakx suddenly spoke again. “All of you, leave us.” When the reaction was not immediate, the Archon roared “NOW!!” Immediately, every warrior in the room was almost running for the steps, soon leaving the armoured, ruby-scaled Archon alone with the smaller, robed priest. His black eyes glancing over the door as he closed behind the last General, Rakx was upon Xacrux in a moment. With a flurry of red scales, the Archon had his opponent by the neck, using his front legs to kick the air from his lungs before slamming him into the hard stone wall, while his free hand twisted the staff from Xacrux’ claws a tossed it to the floor with a clatter.

Rakx’ razor-sharp teeth hovered less then an inch from the terrified priest’s head as he snapped and hissed. “You will NEVER undermine me in front of the other warlords again…Never…Or I swear to all the Gods at once that I will sacrifice you to Roxal myself!!” The priest could do little more then whimper his understanding as the Archon continued. “I…will heed you prophecies for now, Elder, but because of the Gods, not you. You will have your…peace” The vitriol with which Rakx uttered the final word was beyond any vulgarity or curse; it was as though the very thought was a foul blasphemy.

The moment Rakx turned and released his grip, Xacrux collapsed to the floor in a heap, gasping for both air and his badge of office as his claws skittered and scraped on the stone floor. “I expect you should get some sleep, Elder!!” the Archon snarled over his shoulder as he departed the war room. “You have homage to lead in the morning - Homage to the Solvani!!”