Tsepmet

Chapter 1

Pain. Like his spine was twisting and popping, contracting and contrasting all at the same time. A million sand-filled winds coursing across his body, grating away his skin, boiling his blood, and tearing out his eyes.

One thing George knew that was that he hated sand. He hated it because of the way it could sneakily get to whatever part of you body it wanted to irritate you in and it would it would irritate you there. It certainly wasn't helping now, rubbing up against his face like sandpaper. Especially not after that horrid ride to...where was he? He wasn't sure that he move, much less move his head long enough to take in his surroundings. His spine still heaved with popping sensations, and his skin felt raw, like he had been sunburned all over his body.

George tried to lift his head, which he was surprised to find didn't hurt at all. It was like the pain was lying underneath his skin, like deja vu or something.

Color. That was all he saw, at first; splashes of indigo, parades of scarlet and the occasional dash of a deep, fibrous green. Then, once his eyes had adjusted to the light after the strange sensation, everything snapped into focus.I'm in heaven,he thought, scanning the paradise island that was laid out before him. Speckled turtle eggs spotted the beach, and lapis lazuli water from the lagoon was lapping at his feet. A dense clump of tropical foliage spread from one end to the spacious island to another like someone had spilled a green liquid, which had spread across the whole island. With a jolt, George realized that he was halfway in the water, which was warm but not exactly a place he wanted to be with the tide coming in.

Scrambling out of the water, George realised he had no shoes, a fact that didn't really bother him but he idly wondered where they had gone. The beach, along with the eggs, had sharp corroded rocks littering it like a minefield. Not somewhere George wanted to walk barefoot, but since he didn't have any shoes...well, he would have deal with it.

It was then that he saw the two cloaked figures approaching. Dressed in verdant, voluptuous robes, they both walked with a strange gait, closing the gap between them and George more swiftly than he had anticipated. Turning to run, George found himself unable too. It was as if something had taken over control of his limbs.

"Stay a while," one hissed slowly, drawing out its words like a reptile would, if reptiles could speak that is. "We're very interested in you, boy, though you know not our names- or do you? look into my face, boy, and tell me if you know me!" She threw back her cowl and George tried to scramble backwards, but something was holding him pinned in place.

The hags face was like a fruitcake- hard, porous, and pitted with scabs and warts. Her skin looked like putty, pulled to the breaking point. Hair, a dirty grey that smelled like a dead ferret, cascaded-no, more like it sat limp and soggy on her head.

"I- I'm sorry ma'am, but i don't know you. Wait...there was that one nightmare about the-" The hag hissed and waved a claw in front of his nose, then pointed to her companion, who was much taller and yet had not spoken.

"Caliban, come hither so we can show him our...." she paused, chewed on her lip and finished- "hospitality." George, terrified now, still couldn't run as the monstrous hag stepped aside to let her brutish companion get in front of him. Why was he raising his arm?

Caliban...where had he heard that name before? It certainly wasn't a common name, that was for sure. His hand was coming down now, quickly, and George realised what was about to happen seconds before the Caliban slammed his fist into his head everything went black.

. . . . . . . . . .

"What is he, do you think?"

George groaned imperceptibly. If he had a hangover, it would feel just like this. Something told him, a sixth sense, to keep his eyes closed and try to use his hearing to decipher where he was. But he hadn't counted on the fact that the sorcerer was there. (I mean, really. who does?)

"I can tell you're awake," a deep, gravely voice said, sounding like a strange mixture of amusement and anger. Painfully, George cracked open his eyelids, like his eyes were zombies emerging from their tombs.

Licking his lips to get the sour taste of morning out of his mouth, he almost choked on his tongue. Two people stood in front of him, but neither of them looked anything like the two horrid creatures he had encountered yesterday...or was it earlier today? Or maybe that was tomorrow on this island.

One of the things, for people was a title that could not be bequeathed on these creatures, was tall, imposing, and most certainly the one who had just spoken. He was adorned with beads and rings, a dark plain robe draped across his shoulders. He had a handsome yet scarred face that held two piercing grey eyes.

The second figure was brilliant; a radiant sun- colored cloak fitting his figure perfectly as his amber eyes literally gave off a watery light. George, with a jolt, recognised him- or was it her?- as the strange personage who had been in his bedroom.

"You were in my bedroom," he said, mentally kicking himself for sounding so stupid in front of these regal people. Sitting up, he regretted it as pain lanced through him. Shaking it off, he looked around, noticing he was in a crude hut of some sort, lashed together with vines. The golden wingeed man shrugged, as if George was asking if he would like oatmeal for breakfast and not accusing him of abducting George in the middle of the night.

" It was a necessary act of evil. My apologies, my lord."