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Archive-name: Fantasy/tojade.txt

Archive-author: The Reaver

Archive-title: To Jade Eyes

     The winged, obsidian giant kneeled outside the house, gazing

in  through the uncovered window.  His long, flowing hair,  white

as new fallen snow, caught the soft light of the moon.  The enor-

mous wings, the color of his hair veined with streaks of  silver,

were  folded close along his well-muscled back.  His  hands  were

guantleted  in  leather,  fingerless gloves.   The  light  coming

through the window from inside the house glinted off of the sharp

metal spikes that lined the knuckles.  His feet were shod in much

the  same  way  with soft leather boots,  spiked  with  the  same

strange gleaming black metal.  Other than these, his only  attire

was  a  simple loincloth held around his waist by a  wide,  thick

leather  belt.   From  this  belt  hung  a  large  black   sword,

sheathed  in a scabbard of gleaming, emerald, green  scaled  hide

adorned with a row of five unknown gemstones.  His eyes were  the

eyes  of a creature of darkness.  The dark red irises were  wide,

allowing  none  of the white surrounding them to  be  seen.   The

pupils were oblong, almost cat-like.

     He  stared  intently through the window,  content  that  the

smaller creatures within could not see him.  He was careful  that

none  of  the  light  from within fell  directly  upon  him.   He

remained motionless, drawing no attention.  His breath was steady

and  controlled.   He  made no sound as he  watched.   His  large

pointed  ears  were  turned  slightly toward  the  glass  and  he

listened  carefully  as he studied the  creatures  playing  games

inside the room.

     He  wondered at the music that fell upon his ears.   It  was

slightly odd, like nothing he had heard before.  It was a mixture

of  sounds.  He could make out the twangs of plucked strings,  of

different  thicknesses and tensions.  He heard the fingertips  of

the  instrumentalist clamp and slide across them.  He  heard  the

steady pounding of sticks on stretched skins.  He could make  out

the  subtle click as a stick once contacted the edge of  the  in-

strument.  Along with these obsolete, almost primal, sounds  came

the  steady influence of frequency controlled, perfectly  pitched

notes.   The  music  didn't make sense to him,  yet  it  was  not

against  his liking, merely different from that to which  he  was

once used to listening.

     As  the music flowed through his body, his eyes took in  the

scene  unraveling  before him.  `Mating  ritual?'  he  questioned

himself.  Within the room, he could make out two males and  three

females.   `Humans,'  his mind recalled.  `Men  and  women....woe

men...the  woe of men,' he laughed within himself.   Some  things

were  the same in all the dimensions.  `The females run the  show

and let the males think they do...'  Actually, each of the  sexes

appeared  to  be  taking  an equal part  in  the  display.   They

appeared  to  be  taking turns feeding  themselves  with  various

fruits  and other foods placed between each other's  legs.   They

went slowly, spending more time licking each other's bodies  than

gorging  themselves.   Much of the repast seemed to be  going  to

waste.  Whatever it was they were doing, it interested the  giant

greatly.   He suddenly became excited at the prospect of  joining


     `Wonder how upset they'd be if I just walked in on them?' he

thought  to himself, jokingly.  He knew that this planet was  not

yet aware of the dimensions that surrounded it.  He thought  back

quickly  to  the  books they had given him to  study  before  his

exile.  After a few moments, he suddenly smiled as he  remembered

one  of  his  favorite characters from  the  literature  of  this

planet.   He moved slowly into the yard, careful not  to  disturb

anything.   When he was satisfied that his movement had not  been

noticed, he bowed his head in concentration.  A thick fog  slowly

condensed upon his body, conforming itself to his vast form.  The

fog slowly changed, reshaping itself, becoming smaller,  churning

heavily.  Within minutes it abated.

     "Shit!" one of the men exclaimed as he stood and ducked into

the  hallway,  followed closely by the others.  "Who in  hell  is


     One of the women quickly throws a thin robe around her  body

and  steps over to the door.  Opening it carefully, she looks  at

the stranger standing before her.  She never speaks a word.   She

lets  her  eyes frame the question that the  stranger  knows  she

wishes  to ask.  She looks at the man expectantly,  studying  his

features, his body.

     He  is tall, well over six feet, and somewhat thin.   He  is

handsome,  yet in a rugged sort of way.  His face is the face  of

one who enjoys the outdoors.  His skin is the ruddy color of  one

who has spent his life mostly outside.  He wears a  short-sleeved

cotton   shirt.   His  muscled  arms  sprout  from  wide,   solid

shoulders.  His pants are made of faded blue denim.  The knees of

which  are worn through in spots.  On his feet are a pair of  old

leather  hiking boots.  The boots appeared to be well  worn,  the

seams  at the soles split at a few places.  They were stained  by

the dust of many a road.  In his hands he held a six-pack of beer

and a bottle of wine.  Her eyes once more directed themselves  to

the  stranger's pants.  `Yes,' she thought to herself, `They  are

well-filled.'   She once more looked into the man's eyes,  asking

the unspoken question.

     "I'm  new around here and I was pretty bored.  I heard  your

party  and  decided  to see if you could stand  to  be  a  little

hospitable to a  man that's trying to fight his way  out  of  the

depths  of  depression."   He  smiled  as  he  said  the   words,

indicating  that  he was in no way serious, about  anything.   He

smiled and looked at the woman, waiting for her reply.

     He looked at her intently, letting his gaze travel from  her

feet  upward.   Her  legs  were firm and  sexy,  exposed  by  the

briefness  of her robe.  She seemed to be well curved, adding  to

his  excitement.   He looked into her face.   His  eyes  suddenly

locked with hers.

     Her  eyes, beautiful, intelligent eyes, bore into  his  own.

He could lose himself in those eyes.  Indeed, he had already felt

the  danger  of falling into them.  The mirrors of her  soul,  he

liked  what he saw.  Calculating eyes, eyes that knew  what  they

wanted and had the will to take it.  Intelligent eyes, eyes  that

looked  beyond  the  surface, to strip  away  illusions,  to  see

reality.  Fearless eyes, eyes that quickly determined what  could

or  could  not threaten.  Warm eyes, eyes full of  life  and  the

desire to live it to its fullest.  Beautiful eyes, eyes of jade.

     "What's  your name?" she asked, becoming interested  in  the

strange man at her doorstep.

     The  man  thought quickly. `The dark  man...the  clown...the

walking  wait,  that's  it.'   "Randall,"  he  replied,

"Randall Flagg.  But my friends call me The Reaver."


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