Young Writers Society

Cal opened his eyes. He blinked a few times, slowly, trying to figure out what had woken him. The fire had died down to little more then embers that spat and cracked randomly. The snores of sleeping men still troubled the freezing night air, so what was missing? Cal shot upward as the realisation hit him – Leon’s familiar bulk was gone. Distantly, he heard a faint chiming. He grew cold for a moment as chills swept up and down his spine – the witch was making her move, he was sure. Such an immense gathering of power could mean little else and it was into this maelstrom that Leon had gone, the proud fool.
‘Get up!’ he snapped, kicking the still hot ashes onto his sleeping men. They cursed and complained, but he was in no mood to suffer their tardiness. ‘Leon has gone on alone; he must be stopped,’ Cal added, storming out of the cave. That got them moving and with as much brisk efficiency as sleepy men could muster, they marched out of the cave. Cal cast a glowing blue spherical ward over them all, ready for anything else the witch might throw at them. He hadn’t thought she would be so canny as to know he was coming in advance, to have prepared defences and this oversight had cost him dearly. There was no point trying to conserve his magic; he would need every iota just to reach her.
They began to climb and at first, it seemed as if they would go unmolested. That was until they heard a soft, feminine voice whisper, as if she were somehow right there with them, ‘Once upon a time, I might have been more subtle and clever. I’m afraid I simply don’t have the time anymore, it’s hardly ingenious, but it will have to do, nonetheless.’ As one, they all froze. Tension built as they all wondered what would happen next. Cal felt a rising sense of helplessness – his best and only friend was out there, the growing noise of his battle could be heard and yet he was stuck here. She wouldn’t let him get to Leon he realised with dismay – this battle was not only a physical one; she was fighting on a mental and emotional level, slowly but surely grinding down their defences.
He looked up.
The mountain began to shake and tremor and the men clung desperately to the rough rock. There was a thunderous crack and Cal could only watch with disbelief as what seemed like an entire section of the behemoth mountain slowly began to topple. His mind blanked with fear and he instinctively knew that if he were to survive this, his men would need to die.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, closing his eyes.
The ward shrank; leaving the men exposed.

*

Their blades whirled impossibly quick, immortal Golem against titanic warrior and neither was gaining much ground. Leon’s hair was plastered to his head; his chest was heaving, breath steaming in the air. His opponent didn’t seem much bothered, the strength and speed of his blows remained as constant as ever. There were nicks and cuts in Leon’s chain mail, small cuts that bled.
He was going to die.
Gradually, he began to move backward. Maybe if he could fight the creature on more even ground, his chances would improve. After a certain point however, the Knight halted, refusing to take the bait. Leon cursed, this one was no fool. A moment passed as he regathered his breath, the Knight watching on, silent and unmoving as stone. The ground began to tremble and a roar louder and more ferocious then any Leon had ever heard, sundered the air as the earth ripped and tore. Leon staggered to his left, arms windmilling wildly. For one, heart stopping moment, he found himself facing the dizzying drop. Even as his mouth opened to scream, a strong grip caught his left arm and hauled him back.
The entire bridge trembled and shook; it was a wonder it didn’t sunder and crack. Leon found himself leaning against cool stone, one thick, strong arm holding him secure. In disbelief, they watched as an enormous section of the mountain fell. The Knight was moaning, an unending wail of pain that tore at Leon’s heart. Cracks spread along the grey limb holding him upright and the Knight’s body was shuddering. After what seemed an age, the earth settled once more; waves of dust clouded the air. Finding that he was free, Leon stumbled away from his opponent, crashing to the ground. His right hand was paining him, so hard was it clenched around his sword grip. He relaxed his hold and slowly got to his feet.
Leon bowed, deep and respectfully. ‘For that my friend, I thank you. Though I suspect you only delayed the inevitable.’
His opponent bent down, placing his unmarred arm on the thin stone bridge. It began to shake and Leon tensed, wary of sudden treachery. The bridge, he saw with sudden wonder, was growing. It became thicker and wider, a more even playing field for two honourable warriors. When he was done, the Knight stood up once more, levelling his blade at Leon. For a moment, Leon wished he didn’t have to fight such a noble warrior but his friends were counting on him and not only they but the vengeful dead. He had to do this, for the greater good.
His shining blade extended outward and with one delicate flick, struck the other. The two stepped away from one another and the deadly dance began all over again.

*

Cal found himself suspended in mid-air. His skin was glowing blue, so condensed and thick had the ward become around him. He was staring upward, at the much shriven and smaller mountain. There would be blood for this; he would make her pay and her suffering would be long. At least now, he could see Leon. It almost looked as if he and his opponent were duelling on thin air; drifting closer he could see they fought on a narrow bridge. The Knight was a bonfire of power to Cal’s trained eye and his heart despaired. Even Leon, master swordsman though he was, would fall to the sword of a Golem.
He could hear Leon’s hacking coughs from here as the figures twirled in an intricate flow of blades. It was almost mesmerising to see such a display and Cal had to shake himself out of a stupor. Move, you fool, he told himself. He sent a gentle breeze his friend’s way, clearing the dust. Before he could do anything else, something crashed into him, sending him veering dangerously to the right. He expanded the ward outward, groaning. Some ways above the duellists, Magda stood, highlighted fiercely by her own power. Suspended over her head was a giant boulder. She sent it hurtling after the first she’d thrown. Cursing, he dodged, as yet still floating in his azure bubble. Grinning fiercely he hurtled toward her, noting she didn’t have anymore great boulders to throw.
‘Run out of stones, bitch?’ he called out, with relish.
‘Not quite,’ she replied, her clear voice carrying easily on the night air.
He frowned, even as the stone he’d dodged earlier crashed into his back. His body was rocked by the impact, momentum halted. He shook his head, trying to clear it. As he did, he heard Leon’s cry. He spun back, desperate fear freezing his innards.

*

Leon stood completely still. He coughed, blood spraying from his lips. He looked down at the blade impaling his chest, dumbfounded. How had that gotten there? Svagnar dropped from his hands, clattering to the ground. He never stood a chance; he’d known that from the beginning. The Knight was too strong, too quick, with the endurance of mountains to match. In short, he was the perfect warrior. Leon heard someone scream out his name, but it came as if from a great distance.
He tottered forward.
Another inch of blade sank into him with a squelch.
Leon groaned from behind clenched teeth. Gathering his strength - he was coughing and heaving out air and blood – he leapt forward. The broadsword was now hilt-deep. Leon opened his arms and embraced the Knight.
‘Forgive me,’ he whispered, to whom, he knew not.
With that, he let his legs give out and as one, their combined weight toppled and fell over the bridge. Downwards, into the depths, end over end into oblivion.

*

‘Leon, no!’ Cal screamed. His wail of loss was matched by the witch and he saw her stagger backward, out of sight. Much of her power must have been in the Golem and with its end, so would she be diminished. Cal could feel his power roaring through him, a savage tide that needed to be released, fed by his towering rage and pain.
He shot upward and approached the place he’d last seen the witch. He touched down on a large clearing. To his left was a cottage of sorts and before him, incongruously, was a rocking chair. He kicked it out of the way, striding over to where the witch was kneeling, hacking out blood. Savagely, he kicked her too, sending her sprawling. She moaned, clutching her abdomen. There was no reason left in him, no inhibition – every line that could be crossed, had been. She crawled away, approaching the cliff once more.
‘Oh no you don’t bitch, there is no escaping this,’ he said, grabbing a fistful of her long black hair. He turned her around and punched her in the face with one gauntlet clad fist. Her heard rocked back, lip split and bled as she fell to the ground, closer to the cliff.
‘Now, where is the key?’ he said, bringing her head up near his. She said nothing, baring bloodied teeth at him.
‘Wrong answer,’ he said, smashing her in the face again. She crumpled to the floor, moaning. ‘What’s this, the fabled witch has no more ticks?’ Cal said, grinning fiercely as she tried to get up once more. She was facing the cliff, but slowly, she tottered around to face him. Her face was a mess of blood and bruises but it was with a horrid parody of a smile that she said, ‘Just one,’ and leapt off the cliff.
‘No!’ he screamed and ran forward.
She was spiralling down, her cackled laughter rising up to meet him. As he watched, her skin began to flake away and crack. Odd bulges and contours pushed out from beneath her skin; her neck shot outward, becoming long and sinuous as her head exploded. From it came the giant scaled head of a dragon; it’s bugled call fully as loud as the earthquake earlier. It shook off the human shape, freeing its immense bulk. Massive wings snapped out, halting its fall. It swerved away, gathering impetus, before soaring upward to meet him.
*

Magda was gone.
She was a mere speck within the mighty consciousness of the green dragon. It was aware that a petty human thing had challenged it and this was enough. Its anger and power were immense and fully stoked now. Rising high up into the sky, the dragon shot up above Cal, his face a mere white blip in the darkness. Higher and faster, until the air began to ice over its mighty frame and then the wings beat no more.
The dragon dropped.
Only metres above Cal’s disbelieving head, the mighty creature’s wings snapped out with a crack, buffeting him with powerful winds. Its head reared back as molten flame spewed out in torrents from its gaping maw. It bathed the little mage in incandescent heat, but still he stood, an azure barrier keeping most of the flame away. Even so, he was bathed in sweat. The dragon flew up and away, screaming out its anger. Balls of ice formed in Cal’s hand and he snarled with effort as he threw them toward the creature; they melted well before reaching it, such was the heat emanating from its body. It flew closer, flames once more balling up in its mouth. This time, lightning cracked in and around the fireball, building in potency.
‘I will cleanse this world!’ Cal screamed.
He was wrong.
Before it hit, Cal dove away, instinctively knowing his power would not hold up against the missile as it smashed into the mountain, ripping through rock. As he rose, the dragon saw a light silver rope in his hands. He twirled it and threw it as a lasso. The dragon reared up, trying to get away, but it was too late. The rope fell neatly over its head, tightening around its neck. It squealed, body heaving in the air. He flicked his hand, sending blue flames racing toward the fabled creature. Its head flew back, nostrils widening as twin jets of flame blew out to meet his blue. There was a concussion; a flash of light as the rope was sundered by the conflicting powers.
The last legions of night were harried away by the rising sun as the first offensive of light began to streak through the sky. Dawn was arriving and the dragon rejoiced. At his prime, the dragon knew the little mage might have actually won this battle, but he was tired and hurting, not only on the physical but also emotional and mental levels. It could see the jagged tears in his aura and the little imps that were widening them. Long before this battle had begun, before it had come into existence completely, its originator had placed these tiny parasitic creatures on the man, knowing they would work on his spirit. Truly, it had been cunning for the imps were too small to be noticed unless one knew what to look for and worked too slowly for their effects to be construed as anything other then weariness.
The dragon swooped up and over in a loop, speeding toward the now swaying mage. He was finished. Its iridescent green maw opened once more and it was with the light of the sun bathing his face that Cal watched his death approach. He had been right on one level; there had been a cleansing this day, just not of the kind he sought. As the flames bathed his trembling barrier, Cal’s last defence crumpled and he let the ward fail, welcoming the end at the last.

*

Magda was tired.
The last of her power had been used. Truly she had no more tricks left, if anyone would come upon her naked form now, she would be completely vulnerable. She picked up the unharmed, gold key from the charred skeleton and began to walk, trembling and shaking, away from the sight of the battle. Ahead of her was a long and lonely road.
“Such is the price of power, friend,” she whispered. She had saved him this, though he knew it not. The cottage, miraculously, was unharmed and she gratefully walked up its steps. The door opened and welcomed her inside. She sighed gratefully, collapsing inside as the house rose up on skinny, chicken legs, and began to walk away. It would take her somewhere safe she knew and with that, she sighed and fell asleep.