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The Scorpion Ankh
by Elizabeth Barrette
| Black poison's power bubbles up
And captures a damsel in disdress, Whisks her away to a cavern's cold Past all hope of rescue to bless. Green eyes glitter with secret fear. Her terror beckons the beast beyond; Stronger than rum it calls him to come. She yearns against his bitter bond. Dark hair tosses like skeins of silk And pale flesh presses against the wall. Held fast by magic she must await The shadowed figure sleek and tall. She shivers in the frigid night. Deceptively gentle, a caress Smoothes the goosebumps from her flesh. What does he want? She cannot guess. He offers her clothing of jet; Leathery close, it clings to her skin. His mindvoice whispers between her ears But oh, she dares not let him in. She wonders what the catch could be. The tension hums, as under a knife ... Her fingers find the scorpion ankh: Symbol of evil, death in life. Snugged tight around her slender waist A scorpion ankh on ebon cord -- Could this mean the end of her bright faith? Could this one slip make him her lord? She wrenches at the clothing now. She flings the bodice and breeks away; Clad only in the gloves and the cords She waits to hear what he will say. |
The dark elf murmurs in her mind
You belong to me. You can't win free. Wear what I give you or go naked. It is of no moment to me. She sheds the gloves and cords and all Then cowers back. He lets her go As if he senses she must return. What could this mean? She does not know. A faint breeze blows from deep below; Her bare skin shudders against the stones. She stands aloof and steels her resolve But oh, the cold creeps toward her bones. She licks chilled lips, and tastes her death ... At last she breaks with a wild cry, Puts clothing and cords and all back on: Better to live, and serve, than die. She tells herself she will escape, Not lose herself in the thick black slime Nor in the wicked mage's embrace. She is only biding her time. The cords draw closed. She meets his gaze. The dark elf shows a smile of ice. He opens his arms; his mind flicks out. He does not need to call her twice. Jet waters closing overhead, Already familiar, raise no fear. The scorpion ankh pricks her finger. She holds it tight, and sheds no tear. |
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