Sorry--several sad turns of the hour glass you can't ever get back

DAMSEL

Chapter 16

Damascus now had an aura about himself that he didn't like, because Cymen kept nagging about it.  Was she still well, after all this time?  Had she been willing?  Did he, in his estimation as Archbishop and perfect, most generous best friend, believe that she really was worthy by now and taught?  Somewhere, in there, was a fervent desire to also know whether or not the woman was still as round-hipped and sweat-stricken when she slept.  Damascus never told anyone he had the ability to sense such things, woven beneath conversations.  It was far too priceless a talent.  He might convince Giselle to laugh later, though.  For now, the white shimmer of having just done a very good thing was going to be annoying while he grazed, and so the Unicorn willed the evidence sparkling his fur to die.

"Psst!" It came with a blast of hot breath.

Damascus stopped.  Why had he wandered out a bit far, on his own?  Ah yes, being the Great Grand with blood-smeared horn gave him a certain kind of confidence.

The Unicorn said, "Fe... Fi... Fo... Fum.  I smell the blood of another agent of Hell.  No, no.  You're welcome to speak.  You're so puny compared to Fanven.  Just remain where you are."

The yellow dragon let forth a false, aristocrat's laugh.  "Oh, you're charming.  King Ommot was right to stick a collar on you and Vischte to take it a step further and force you into a mongrel dog's cage."

"Who are you?  Or, shall I ask, who were you?"

"That is my own business.  Do you think anyone would choose to become a dragon if they liked their previous life or name?  No, just call me Axz."

Axz?  Oh... this was rich.  As rich as that woman was miserable and poor in her choice of men.  Or, males.  Damascus stood there chewing cud.  He sort of wished Cymen could see this.  Or, was it better to go on pretending that Cymen wasn't worthy of Eve when the man so liked crying in his sleep?

"Never heard of you."

Axz let slip his forked tongue, and lay more comfortably on the grass.  "No matter, I've got all the real power and sex appeal I could want for now, after a life full of reckless indulgence.  And no one can demand what little I have, or I else eat them.  But here, I found you in order to ask something important.  I might have heard from... somebody, that there is a Grand and Frivolous Effort being made down near Brax, yet another bid to save humanity.  Is it any good?"

"I'm its Archbishop.  I'd say that it is.  Are you asking me for a baptism?"

Axz flicked his yellow tail a few more times.  "I hear it's got an Eve, too.  What's she like?"

Damascus ripped up another mouthful of grass, when this was going in an obvious direction. Crunch, crunch, crunch, gulp.  "No, she's boring.  I'll tell you about our resident Adam, though.  He's about yea high, and great at balancing trays of food in the scullery..."

Axz lifted his rump and prowled forward like a gargantuan advancing lion.  "I said Eve.  A specific Eve from my Valley of Axes."

Damascus corrected Axz, when Eve was from Brax.  She'd made that painfully clear to all of them, especially Cymen Ruecross, before she arrived in Gafe.

"By the Devil Queen!  Did Eve lie to me about where she lived, ontop of everything else?"

"Well, yes, of course.  I told the truth in order to hurt your feelings, you see.  I could have easily let you think it was just a case of mistaken identity, but where's the torture in that?"

"Is she happy, Damascus?  How many children does she have?  Or, did this Sister Margarethe get her into the cloth already?"

"Sister?  Ho oh, Margarethe is our Mother Superior, of all the clergy.  My second in command."

"A Mother Superior is teaching her?  Oh, damn it all, then Eve's lost!"

"You've lost.  We've won.  Along with so many other souls, Eve the hellion will be salvaged.  Don't come any closer, agent of Hell, this is dragon blood on my horn, that of Fanven the Red."

Axz actually went backward, on hearing that.  "Is she still so pretty?"

"Oh, God!  This is tiresome.  I rather think you'd like to know whether or not she's married.  Why do they never just come out and ask it?  Just because I may live forever does not mean I enjoy my time being wasted."

Axz nosed sorrowfully into the ground.  "...If she got herself hitched to the Father, then I've been used terribly.  Damn my more caring moments.  I should have stayed at doll-making."

"Sir, I shall give you a word of advice.  You are too old to still be acting and thinking like a human.  You picked your fate, so give up."

Axz showed all his teeth, and the full breadth of his mouth.  "Excuse me, but a man can only take so much rejection in his life.  First, the entire city of Ommotlayan, then the Harmonic Golden Order, then Heaven, humanity, and afterward, Hell, blah blah blah... after a hundred years of sulking, and then the pretty witch woman who actually lied to me about her real address, I had a cry and went back to bed."

Damascus, again, rolled his bulbous eyes.  It was one of his favorite things to do.

"She's just a tiny wild woman, Archbishop.  No one is even going to miss her.  And she's not made for idiot virgins, either!  All that I want is someone to spend my little self-induced vacation in eternal flame with, that's all.  If you really know Eve, then surely you sense that it will benefit both of us, forever.  Help me."

"The Kingdom of Heaven is coming.  All the people living behind the White Wall and King Micco are going to make it happen, this time.  Together.  Everyone has come for a reason, according to Scripture.  Every member of my flock is needed."

Axz rolled onto his back, threw his whole weight into laughing, roaring, spurting bursts of flame.  He certainly inspired soldiers to draw near, from camp in the distance.  They came running with their swords, latching armor on.   The golden dragon shouted loud enough for even the faithful to hear.

"Ha!  I've heard of your King Micco.  He's not ordained from Heaven, but fallen out of it.  Why would the Father break a pact with angels, to save scrawny little sinning people?  They can't even save themselves, what potential do they possess except tasting good, and hardly even that when I hate to have to eat them.  Fine, then, deny me.  But that woman is selfish and nasty, only good for my tastes.  She is going to ruin you all, and I’ll come to collect her after, snap her up from the ruins of your pitiful civilization.  The perverse Archbishop of Gafe will regret not inviting me thither."

"Is that a threat, before this hallowed army?  Are you promising to do harm to Gafe?"

Axz sidestepped, unwilling to show his back to the advancing soldiers.  Eventually, the dragon came to what seemed to be a large white rock, half as round as he was.  Axz opened wings and pounced upon it.  Eye sockets were revealed in the stone, with sharp cheek bones and jagged horns still on.  This dragon had spent quality time with the other one, picking it clean.  Axz balanced on it now, lifted one foreleg to make a grand gesture.  "Oh no.  Never that.  I'm an artist and a lover, as I said.  Not like the other bloodthirsty dragons.  I only came to the battle after it was well over, to find inspiration."

"So then, you're a bum?"

Axz snapped his wings loudly over Damascus talking, grabbed hold of his kin Fanven's skull, and pumped hard towards the West.

"Hold, there!  That is not your trophy.  It either belongs to the soldiers of Gafe, or the people of Arusalem, who bartered peace in the desert lands..." Damascus considered striking the audacious flying fool with lightning, but it only occurred to him after the rarely ever seen so-called King of the Valley had gone.

Cymen Ruecross came running, half-dressed and dragging his sword.  "Oh, damn.  Damascus, please don't tell me that I missed killing another dragon?  Why didn't you call for me!"

Coiled lion tail swished.  "Oh, not to worry, Adam.  I feel sure you'll be facing him again before long."

"Why are you calling me by the name of what's it...is he a cross-maker, whose name is always being shouted?  No, that scullery boy, correct?"

Damascus also intended to get some corn popped and watch, but felt he couldn't say that without laughing very hard and ruining everything.  So, he left all the impending pain and ruin for Cymen Ruecross alone. 

And the irate redhead was still droning on, "...This is a re-forging of my master's sword.  A dragon killing sword.  It's not good if it doesn't kill dragons, Damascus!"

"So then it's a virgin sword.  Why not put a hole in it Cymen, so I can finally be happy for you finding someone to settle down with.  Though, on closer consideration, the union would only last but a moment.  Both conditions suited to the measure of your masculine energy, however.  Aha, well done, Damascus."

Cymen did not speak to Damascus again until they got back to Gafe.  That pleased the Archbishop very much, as he now had even more delicate sacred revelations to reflect upon.  Chapter five of Resolutions, verse thirteen...

All ye faithful take heed, for when the golden dragon ascends to heaven, carrying red-peeled skull, fragile efforts all surely will fail.  And with no true King, mortal realm, too, will fall.

There might have also been something about hundred-year-old virgins being cleaved in two, but Damascus quickly assumed it was his own perverse imagination and eagerly let it go. 

Now, before you judge, consider that, when you are the last of something and both the pressure of finding no substantial companion and also the prospect of truly no longer being held accountable by any societal norms of your kin, together, these tax you, what follows is certainly a splintering of one's pure spirit, an odd fermenting of the brain. 

It doesn't always go like wine, either.