Sam Bowring - Prophecy's Ruin

Rhobi moved forward cautiously. Blood was creeping over the splintered wood beneath the man’s skull. The goblin smiled, and bent to retrieve his dagger.

Outside, the wind picked up with a great howl. The walls of the hut shuddered and Rhobi paused. Had he just heard voices? He shrugged, and lowered the dagger to slice the man’s throat. A second later he was almost knocked from his feet as roaring wind poured through the smashed windows. It drove into his clothes, pushing him, now pulling, churning like a sea of malice. Rhobi spun at a whisper in his ear, to be greeted by a slam of air to the face. Stricken by a fear that went straight to his soul, he fought the urge to flee screaming into the night.

He forced himself towards the cot, the gale now pressing solidly against him. He reached out for the bawling child, muscles straining, eyes watering. A vase flew over his head and smashed against the wall.

‘Damn you!’ he shouted, gritting his fangs and lunging forward to scoop up the baby. He struggled to the door and strained against the door knob, but the surging air kept it closed. He screamed defiance at the wind, and voices screamed in return. Rhobi’s bladder emptied into his pants. Strengthened by fear, he wrenched the door open, bundled himself and the child through, and collapsed into the natural storm on the other side.

The door slammed behind him with such force, he was surprised it didn’t fly off its hinges into his back.

Elessa advanced, drilling Fazel with so much power that he slid backwards, his bony heels leaving grooves in the mud. She felt good, almost giddy. She laughed. What had changed?

She had been treading the edge of despair the entire battle, expecting to be dead at any moment. The dagger blow had pushed her over that edge and she had hung from the cliff by a thread. With nowhere to go but up, she had been filled with a determination she’d never felt before. Now, she manipulated her power with skill and precision, tapping reserves she hadn’t known she possessed. Bringing her hands together as if squashing an orange, she compressed the air about Fazel’s skull. There was an audible crack as a hairline fracture appeared across his forehead, and he clutched at it, howling. Elessa increased the pressure and the jagged rent grew.

The throbbing in her side was strong and she glanced down at the dagger wound. Blood stained her sodden dress all the way down her leg. She waved a hand over the wound, setting a magic bind to stop the blood flow. Proper healing would have to wait until later.

Somewhere behind her, the hut door slammed. A Black Goblin stumbled into the storm with the crying babe. He seemed dazed and she vaguely wondered if he’d been injured. She sensed Fazel shake free of her crushing spell, and caught his thought urging the goblin to run for the trees.

I think not.

Sending twin bursts of golden energy towards the clearing’s edge, she disintegrated the bases of two trees, toppling them towards the undead mage. Fazel spun to face the oncoming trunks, his rotten brow creasing in concentration, and Elessa was able to turn away for a moment. She weaved her hands through the air, her fingertips leaving glowing trails, until she held a mesh of light. Her hands shot forward, launching it at the goblin. The goblin’s eyes opened wide as he saw it coming, and he dropped the child to flee. The net hit his back and slammed him to the ground beside the stunned child, its glowing ends sinking into the earth and pinning him there.

Elessa turned back to see one of the trees sailing towards her like a colossal javelin. With an almighty push of power she sent it off course. It rotated on its axis and one of the larger branches almost took her head off. As she dodged, her wound bit her savagely and she clutched her side, gasping in pain. A splintering met her ears as the tree crashed through the middle of the hut.

Fazel faced her, the other tree rotating massively in the air above him. She backed away towards the child, who lay in a pool of mud. Fazel loosed the other tree towards her. This time Elessa pushed it upwards, so that it passed above the treetops at the clearing’s edge and soared off into the storm.

‘That’s going to surprise someone,’ came Fazel’s voice, along with a harsh rasp of laughter.

He advanced, keeping the distance between himself and Elessa equal as they moved towards the child. He smiled at her – a disturbing sight.

‘I’d wager Fahren has never seen you so in tune,’ he said. It sounded to Elessa almost like admiration.

‘Flatter me all you like if you need the delay to recover your strength,’ she replied.

She’d surprised herself with these verbal retaliations, having always been a shy and softly spoken girl. Now her tongue felt as sharp as her anger.

She was nearing the child, which he wouldn’t risk harming with an attack. She could feel him weaving some kind of magic in the air about her, but it was so subtle she could not identify its target. She restrained herself from going on the offensive. She was so close to the child, so close …

Confusion came over her. She should have arrived at the child and netted goblin by now. She glanced around and saw that she had almost backed herself against the hut. Her gaze flicked forward again, her eyes narrowing. She’d been tricked.

Now she knew what the subtle magic had been, and something Fahren had once said echoed in her thoughts: Don’t forget that little spells sometimes win big fights. It only takes the smallest mouse to slip under the greatest door.

Clenching her fists, she shattered Fazel’s spell. It was just a simple illusion, to disguise the child and goblin as two more puddles on the ground. She, on the lookout for bolts of crackling death, had backed straight past them.

‘Almost,’ said the undead mage. ‘Almost had you there, Elessa Lanclara.’

They came to a halt and stood watching each other. The child and the struggling goblin lay between them, at equal distance from both.

Each knew the fight would end here, one way or another.

The baby watched, not comprehending the fierce battle raging about him, yet mystified by the power that charged the air. He was cold and wet, but that wasn’t important. He gazed at the lady in white, and the pain he saw on her face worried him. She looked nice and soft, and he hoped she would pick him up and snuggle him, take him back inside. He cooed at her, but her face was a mask of concentration and she didn’t notice. Then he looked at the strange one, who didn’t look nice and soft at all, but the strength of magic that emanated from him was fascinating.

Around the baby’s neck, the pendant thrummed.

Spells and defences crashed against each other, and in the middle of the interlacing forces lay the child. If she could just get him into her arms, Elessa could retreat towards the approaching reinforcements.

She tried to levitate him towards her, but instantly Fazel shot out an opposing pull. She’d been prepared for a tug of war, but her grip on the child felt surprisingly insubstantial. She poured power into the effort, but it seemed to disappear as it met the child – as if the undead abomination was somehow managing to nullify it. Yet she seemed to be thwarting him somehow, for while she couldn’t get a hold on the boy, Fazel seemed not to have one either.

About the child’s neck, the colours of the pendant flashed excitedly. He shifted in discomfort.

Fazel sent another blanketing wrap over the boy and again felt it vanish from his control. He could not establish even the weakest fleeting hold! Never in all his years had he met with magic such as this. What was the girl doing? If she’d erected some kind of shield around the babe, he should have been able to sense it. How was she draining away his power?