basilisk hunting
2 May 2011 at 6:51 pm (Daily Stories)
Tonight, I caught a basilisk.
Gaelhwyhn took me hunting. She was a hunter. I met her first in the blue depths of the club, hunting for victims. Now we were in the wilderness together, hunting for prey.
There was only one rule, she told me: never trust anything. What may seem like an old car engine could actually be a swamp dragon disguising itself as the local surroundings. A pride of basilisks cawing in the distance might be a jaguar mimicking their cries to lure you in. Even the smell of orchids could be nothing but stealth technology, mutated to snare the unwary travelers. Nothing could be believed.
The technology of the Ancients had been powerful beyond magic, once upon a time.
Side by side we swept through the jungle, all senses alert. Twice I was almost lured away by what turned out to be an old aeroplane, and once Gaelhwyhn killed a dragon just as it was about to pouce. It never stood a chance.
Like I said, she was a hunter.
Until at last we found them: a whole nest of basilisk, powered down for the night and plugged in to a cluster of sockets to recharge. I burst in on them before they could power up again and snatched one up in my hands.
It hissed, flaring and sparking, but I was strong and I bent the old technology to my will. Its struggles grew weaker and weaker, and at last it lay rigid in my hands, humming with resentment but tamed.
The magic of the Ancients, slaved to my will.
Congratulations, Gaelhwyhn said. You are truly a shaman now.
