Sunday, February 25, 2018

Wizard Fight!


Sparks and flames spewed up form beyond the hills at the eastern edge of the village.

The sky boomed and crackled with electricity as storm clouds rolled unnaturally in from the north and south, converging in the skies above the ancient battle grounds that had not been used in more than a century. Not since the last of the old wars had been fought.

Johann, the butcher's apprentice looked up from the carcass of the meanderbeast he was carving up to see the streaks of lightning shoot up from over the horizon; up from the grounds below, not down from the clouds above.

He wiped his bloodied hands upon his apron and ventured into the village's main street where his master's shop was prominently located.

From behind he heard the stomping of feet fast approaching as he looked toward the old battle grounds.

Turning just in time to jump back out of the way of the rushing crowds of villagers, running like mad toward the east end of the village; towards the commotions erupting there.

Johann caught sight of his friend Verner and yelled to him through the throng of people stampeding passed.

"Verner! What is all this about!?" He shouted as his friend approached.

Not slowing, Verner only waved for Johann to join them, shouting as he pointed east excitedly, "It's a battle!"

Not needing any more of an explanation, Johann threw off his apron and dashed to catch up with his friend as the growing crowd sped toward where columns of fire and smoke gushed up from behind the hills that hid the old wizard battle arena.

Clambering up the west slope of the grassy mound, the crowd spread out and came to a halt to stand in a line at the top of the hill, watching in awe at what was happening below.

Two cloaked figures stood at either end of the large field that was surrounded by the oval shape of the hill that been build up around it to create the natural arena in days long ago.

Smouldering craters and charred blast marks marred the field between the two long-bearded wizards as they both breathed heavily from the exertion of the many attacks they had already reined upon one another.

As the crowd gathered all along the top of the border hill, the wizards never took their eyes off one another, each lanky man of middling years squinting warily at their opponent, strategizing their next spell.

The wizard in his grey cloak, covered in dirt and soot, wiggled his fingers in readiness as the black cloaked wizard flex his fingers open and close, neither one blinking or making any other move to indicate what they might do next.

Suddenly, the wizard in black flung his arms forward as his hands glowed orange and shot forth a giant ball of flame that sped toward the wizard in grey. At the same moment, the grey shot a hand to the sky and bolts of lightning sparked from his finger tips, not towards his opponent, but to the clouds above.

Moving in a blink of an eye, the lightning bounced off the dark clouds and rebounded down to where the wizard in black stood. Before the man could react, hitting him directly in the chest.

Meanwhile, the grey cloaked wizard was able to safely jump out of the way of the ball of flame that flew passed him and exploded into the side of the far hill wall, knocking the spectators that stood watching flying in every direction.

As the smoke cleared from each of the explosions, the grey wizard could be seen hovering above the scorched field over to where his fallen rival lay prone, struggling to breath.

Glowing green orbs appeared in the approaching wizard's hands as he came to a landing a few paces from the black-clad wizard, who lifted a shaky arm in an effort to shield himself ineffectually.

Raising his hands to deal the final blow, the grey wizard looked down upon his fallen foe with contempt as the crowd watched with bated breath.

With his arm still weakly outstretched, the black wizard muttered an incantation barely above a whisper, but with a subtle circular motion of his badly burnt hand, a magical gate way opened in the space directly behind the grey and from out of it pour forth a horde of bearded wizards; all of them wearing the same long black robes as the one laying beaten on the battle field.

Hundreds of them streamed out of the portal and soon the grey wizard was surrounded by identical black cloaked wizards; hurriedly he created a domed shielding around himself.

Once the green glowing shield was in place, he quickly did a similar motion with his hand as his opponent, only directed at the air above where the black wizard lay.

From out of his portal, fell an army of his own duplicates, landing and spreading out to surround the wild-eyed black wizards.

For a moment both sides stood ready to attack at the slightest moment of the others.

Finally making it back up to his feet, the injured stood, his shoulders heaving as he seemed to be building his strength up by sheer will. Then, with a wild, unhinged scream, he cried, "Wizard Fight!"

Both the wizards and the crowd yelled and howled, and the real battle began.


Saturday, February 10, 2018

Eternal

As she lay in the tall grass of the field, dying of from her wounds, she looked up at the clear blue skies above and remembered all of her past lives, and deaths.

How many times had she died? Too numerous to count, always the same, they blurred into one another.

She had been a simple famer, a primitive Neanderthal, feudal lord, a beggar, and even a famous general of a vast army in her lifetimes; and in a great battle against her enemy's forces she had met her end, as she had always done, at the hands of her one and true foe; and he at her hands.

They had fought one another throughout the ages; many of their conflicts were written of in the history texts that told of civilization's journey through the millennia, though no one would suspect that they were all just a continuation of the same war.

The eternal war between darkness and the light; renewed each time as she and her enemy were reborn into the world.

From epic battles between military generals, to lone ruffian fights in the back streets of some ancient market city, they always found one another, no matter who they were each time.

Their lives were not their own, but were confined to the unending struggle to keep the balance between what is good and what is evil.

Now, laying a few short paces from her fallen enemy, she held her hand to her stomach where their blade had made its fatal strike. Her other hand however, was held tightly by the hand of her love, kneeling by her side.

Just as each time they died, her enemy was left alone and abandoned by their followers, her love stayed with her until the end.

Looking into her lover's tear-filled eyes she could see the sadness at their departing yet again. If only she could spare them the pain of losing the one they loved over and over; but they too were enslaved to their fate.

A soft breeze blew through the grassy field where the two adversaries had met; samurai warriors this lifetime; ronin that had wandered the lands until finding each other yet again.

The familiar calmness washed over her and she smiled up at her lover for the last time in this life, and they smiled bravely back.

Most deaths blurred into one another, but this one she would remember.

Birds swooped passed, gliding gracefully on the wind as with her last breathes, she spoke soft and sweetly to her love.


"This was my favourite death." She whispered as she closed her eyes for the last time; until the next life time.

Sunday, February 4, 2018

Hijack

It was the tiniest of things; a spark in the early hours of mornings dim light that almost went unnoticed, except for the keen eyes that had been watching for it.

Eyes that flashed with the reflection of the pop of light that was visible for only a moment before winking out of existence again. Eyes that then narrowed to slits that nearly vanished into the shadows that surrounded them.

Soon they would be coming and the hidden figures laying wait in the shadows would welcome them, in their own special way.

The sound of a blade sliding out of its sheath whispered in the dark as the glint of the razor sharp steel signalled to their counterparts that they were ready and waiting.

Soon, with the rising light of the sun behind, a coach rumbled along the well-worn dirt road that led to the palace which stood to atop the high-reaching cliffs so that it overlooked the lush forest of the valley.

Its train of horses pulled the coach at a brisk pace along the road as it wound its way through the tall-standing trees, their green leaves heavy with the moisture of the previous night.

The coach's driver sat on its padded roof edge seat as they worked the reigns, steering the horses deftly along the curving roadway. Their high-collared coat and pulled down hat, with its broad brim hid the driver's features to the point that they resembled a phantom driving the midnight-black coach faster to beat dawn's creeping light.

The windowless coach gave no hint of who or what might be riding inside, but it was clear from its lacquered and well-maintained exterior, that it would be a prime target for any daring marauders who might try to highjack it.

As the coach turn a bend, four shadowy figures leapt silently from the surrounding trees and onto its roof behind the unsuspecting driver; their entire bodies cloaked in close-fitting black garments from head to toes, with only their eyes visible from a slit in their face masks.

Nimbly, the four figures moved toward the seated driver as the coach continued to rumble along the forest road at a brisk clip. Steel flashed as they unsheathed their long swords in unison and made ready to attack.

With choreographed precision, the four marauders moved as one, plunging each of their swords into the back of the driver, yet there was no reaction from their victim, no blood spurting out from the swords thrusting all the way through their body. Only, electrical sparks shot out from underneath the driver's cloak as it tore away to reveal the mechanical carapace of an automaton.

The galloping horses flickered for a moment as if they were only a visual illusion, as the coach was well capable of driving itself.

The four assailants looked to each other with a moment of confusion before the flash of a steel blade sliced them in half with one blurred slash.

As their bodies fell in pieces from the coach, blood spraying off in gushes that splattered the passing trees before tumbling to be left unceremoniously on the side of the road, a red cloaked figure stood alone atop the still speeding carriage.

Their face hidden as well, save for bright blue eyes staring steely ahead, they cleaned their blade before deftly re-sheathing it and abruptly springing into a back flip off the roof to land on the back rack of the coach, with the grace of a lithe cat.

Catching onto the bar that attached to the back of the carriage for use as a handle on the rare occasions when guards were used, the figure in red made their way around the side of the carriage to unlatch side the door and slip inside.

The interior of the coach was red leather to match the cloaked figure's outfit, which they quickly unfurled to reveal a young woman with auburn hair that fell in curls around her freckled cheeks.

She placed her outfit and sword underneath the plush bench that hid a storage truck within, and took out a white ruffled dress which she thought of as more a disguise than her previous clothes.

Donning her respectable lady's attire and placing her hair up in a more fashionable style, she took her seat on the coach's passenger beach and touched a panel to her right, causing a screen to appear as its display glowed into the image of a well-groomed man in fine livery.

"Yes, my lady?" The groomsman spoke in a hoity drawl. "Has the journey been uneventful as you predicted?"

"Quite, Harrington," the lady replied while nonchalantly pulling on her lace-embroidered gloves. "Very dull indeed; though we will need to do some repairs on the driver; a minor malfunction, still operational, nothing to worry about."

Harrington raised a questioning eyebrow, "As you say, my lady."

"I should be there within the hour," she advised. "Have the east gates opened. I have a few items I've pick up along the way."

"Of course, my lady," Harrington answered dutifully as his image winked out and the display screen sunk back into its hidden panel.

Looking sufficiently proper once again, the young lady looked to the chests sitting on the floor of the coach and lifted one of the lids to reveal the shimmering glow of its contents.

With a wickedly mischievous grin, she scooped up a handful of the gold coins that filled the chest and let them trickled through her fingers to drop back down with their satisfying clinks.

Yes, she thought to herself as the coach rumbled towards the palace, very dull indeed.