Fire Wraith of Calazan

Zora Zai-el took a confident stance on the ice, her left hand brushing against the cold handle of her fire poker. She popped her neck and puffed out a deep breath. Across the frozen lake stood the armies of Renariath, bright red and cool blue banners flapping in the evening breeze. Behind her the battered and bruised people of her country, huddled and scantily dressed for the winter months. This was the last place she wanted to be, but a victory in combat against a Hero of Renariath would send a message to the Green Wizards that she was worthy of their time.

“Zora, I never wanted it to come to this. Lay down your arms and let your people live.”

Ah, the ‘Hero’ in question: Luthor von Stein. Twenty-five, same as her, dark long hair much the same as her own, but towering over her five-and-a-half-foot frame. His young face was already scarred from chin to left eye, a proud symbol of his feats for the Renarii. Five years ago, they would have been on the same side of this windswept lake, shimmering turquoise and reflecting the resplendent myriad of sapphire, tangerine and sunflower light of the dying sun.

She tightened her fingerless leather gloves. He was halfway across the lake, his voice booming without an ounce of effort across the desolate scene. Zora could hear the shifting ice crackle and pop beneath her as if his voice was powerful enough to split it. But that wasn’t where his immense power resided. It rested in the mace he thumped absently on his own bare hands, weather-torn and bronzed from his constant work.

“You have the power to make this right, to save everyone huddled behind you. Look at them. They are feeble and tired; they are no match for King Suven.”

Zora fought to keep her breathing steady as anger swelled in her chest. She refused to look back. She refused to turn away from him for even a moment. “You’re right, I do, and I choose to defend them from all oppressors, even those who once wore our colors.” She spat the last part out.

As if in response to those words her crimson cape -lined down the middle with rows of green and cream - rippled in the cool breeze. Her hair danced along her shoulders and tugged at her matching crimson hairband.

Luthor chuckled. “We were friends. What happened?”

Zora scoffed. “You know very well what happened.”

Luthor clenched his fist, and his face scrunched in on itself. “You don’t see. You’ve never seen what is coming, and where Calazan is in that future.”

“But you do?” Zora said, gripping the handle of her fire poker in its leather scabbard.

“Yes. Yes!” Luthor was now within ten paces, close enough to see the puffs of breath and the rosy cheeks beneath his helmet that covered the sides of his face. “And I want you to see as well.”

Zora’s left foot slowly slid back on the ice with a soft crunch of snow. “It’s a lie. It always has been. Suven wants anything he can’t have, and he will not show mercy to our people.” Her steel-grey eyes narrowed. “To my people.”

“You’re wrong. He will reward those who stand by his side.”

“You mean become his lap dogs,” Zora shot back.

Luthor shook his head. “You could be the greatest of us all. I know you have been training with your powers. We’ve all heard the stories of the Fire Wraith of Calazan.”

“I don’t want to be the greatest. I want you to come home.” Zora fought the emotion in her throat. She should be angry with him. She was angry at him, for leaving, for abandoning their people. But a lifetime of friendship was far too gripping to throw away like an apple core. There had been good in Luthor, and if he could latch onto it, he would see how he had been manipulated by power and the promise of fame.

“I have found a new home. You could to.”

“I will never become a servant of Suven or any other Renarii tyrant!” Zora shouted.

Luthor clenched his teeth. His eyes narrowed and his glare locked on Zora. “So be it. You had your chance.”

Zora shook her head, both in defiance to clear her head. The battle was before her and it was inevitable, emotions, wants, desires be damned. “No. You had yours.”

She drew the fire poker in her right hand. “I am truly sorry for what I must do to you.”

Luthor laughed, carefree and confident. “You will try. But you are not the only one who has learned new tricks.”

Quicker than she knew what was happening a chunk of spiked ice was hurtling towards her head. She rolled gracefully to one side, sliding to a stop on one knee. Luthor nodded, sufficiently impressed. He shook the frost off his free hand. “Same old Zora. You’ve gotten quicker though.”

Zora said nothing. She wasn’t the type to taunt and tease. She was here to stop him, and that’s what she was going to do. Let others write the songs and sing the praises, she had to concentrate just to stay alive. Her heart was already pounding but having dodged his first attack she focused herself. Everything around the lake clouded into a black fog of irrelevance and she hyper-fixated on the fur-clad enemy before her. The old Luthor was gone, or maybe he had never been anything more than her fanciful wishes.

She dashed at him, hoping for a quick blow, something to knock him off his edge, to shut up that smart mouth of his. She sank to both knees and glided past him, taking a whack at his knees. He had to hop off the ice with both feet but landed safely and spun as she came to a rising stop.

“Come on then Z, let’s see something new, shall we?”

He stomped his feet, and a crack split the ice from his own feet to hers, crumbling beneath her. She dove to the side, this time landing hard and scrambling out of reach as frigid blue waters sloshed over the side of the new crevice. Lake Heron froze deep into the winter, a solid foot thick, and he had broken it with nothing more than a temper tantrum stomp. He had gotten stronger.

She gripped her poker and came at him again. His mace raced down, clanging iron on iron with a shower of sparks. In an instant she caught them in the air and flung them back in his face, singing his cheeks. He swatted his hands and pushed backwards. When she saw his face, the humor had drained, and a red anger washed over him.

He let out a scream and lunged forward, forming a slab of ice in his hand and hurling it at her. She tumbled to the side, and it crashed into a million pieces that skittered across the frozen lake like ants pouring out of an anthill. She licked her lips and breathed in. This combat stuff was no easy feat, requiring agility, strength, and most importantly conditioning, just to not be mowed down in the first minute.

She gripped her poker and felt the heat rise from her throat, emanating at the pink scar wrapped from end to end where the rope had not done its job. It warmed her face, and the heat washed over her arm and into the handle of the weapon. She knew Luthor, and while he had grown in skill, she knew how he fought. He was going to go as hard and fast as he could. He was the type to eat the best food first instead of savoring the little things and building up to a finale. To him everything before was a waste of time.

That’s how she knew that another wall of opal ice would be coming her way. It was the width of a man and half-as tall, shooting in an arc. She hissed and the poker burst into orange flame that leapt out in every direction. The ice came down and she swung up. The red-hot poker cleaved it in two, showing her in frost and icicles that melted into her hair and skidded harmlessly around her.

Luthor grinned. “There it is. The Fire Wraith.” He motioned to his own neck. “I take it that is the origin of the fearsome name?”

Zora said nothing. Luthor approached again.

“I’m not surprised. You never were easy to finish off for good.”

Zora smiled at that. “Finally, you said something correct.”

Luthor didn’t like that, not one bit. He rushed forward, rage blinding him. His blows came swift and erratic, but strong enough that Zora could barely fend them off. Some glanced off the poker, some smashed the ice at her feet as she dodged and parried, but while Luthor was incensed he was also an incredible fighter who showed little weakness in his technique.

Finally, he took a swipe so hard that while she blocked it, she went tumbling head-over-heels. She slid to a stop on her back, barely hanging on to her poker as the cold air brought it back to its natural black color. Before she could stand, he was on her, pinning her arms with his legs on both biceps. She cried out in pain as nerves and tendons tore in each arm. Despite her effort to hold on, her poker clattered to the ice.

Luthor was no more. What had replaced him was simply a meatsuit wearing his features, devoid of any of what made Luthor himself. It had been stuffed with rage and a desire for domination. She could feel the life rushing out of her. He stood, raising his mace for the killing blow.

She whimpered. She had failed. Forget the Green Wizards, Calazan would fall, and it was all her fault. She closed her eyes, feeling the heat of pain rush through her arms. But she refused to have a boy in man-form take her place. She had given Luthor everything that was in her, and it had not been enough. She would not let him have Calazan. She dug her nails into her wrists and the heat from around her scar returned. She tried lifting her arms, but the pain was so bad she could not.

She forced the warmth down her arms, ignoring the blinding pain that shot through her. She forced her eyes open, feeling the heat around her eyes, thinking she may go blind. Her face was glowing, her body crackling with energy and shaking with fear and adrenaline. It rushed to the tips of her hands, tingling her fingertips.

“Goodbye Zora,” Luthor said. His mace turned blue as his hands froze the weapon over in glossy teal ice.

He swung with two hands straight at Zora’s chest. With whatever energy she life had she thrust her hands up, screaming so loud that no other sense could function. Her hands burst into smoke and flame. She caught the mace as it came down. The ice exploded off it but the metal teeth bit into her palms, threatening to break through. With all her might she pushed back, and the mace came to a quivering halt an inch over her chest.

Her face was white-hot at this point, a contrast to her dark clothing. She could see the light reflecting from Luthor’s face and armor as the sun disappeared and night wrapped them in its cold embrace. His teeth were barred, his muscles straining in his neck and temple. Spittle drooled out the side of his face. He placed one hand on the back of his mace and began to shove it down.

Zora’s mind was racing for answers. She could not hold this forever. He was bigger and stronger, and she had only bought herself a little time. She focused on the mace caught between her bloody and mangled fingers that were dancing with flame. She pushed every ounce of the magic through her veins, light dissipating from her face and swirling in her palms in a rage of heat. The mace began to melt, turning yellow, then bright orange.

“No, no, no!” Luthor screamed, pouring his own ice magic back into it. The mace was a swathe of blues and oranges that danced around fighting for domination. Zora pushed one last time and the mace flared so hot that the heat shot down the handle, burning Luthor’s hand. With an exclamation he cast it to the side, clutching his wounded hand that left a trail of smoke.

Zora huffed and swung a fistful of flame at him. He dodged it but in doing so pulled his body weight off her right side and that was all she needed. She scrambled to her knees. Luthor came back with a punch, but she batted it away. He jumped to his feet and came down with a thunderous two-handed smash. The ice shattered and careened inward. Zora clawed for a handhold, but the ice broke below her, and she plunged into the freezing water of Lake Heron with a yelp.

Cold water doused her powers and choked her cry. She fought to the surface as the pain in her arms flared down both sides. She couldn’t do this. He was too strong, or she was too weak. Either way, she was going to lose to this unhinged, petulant child. Not just lose, she was going to die, and Calazan with her. And if he had his way it would be right here in the water.

He stepped over the edge of the hole in the ice. “May the gods find you worthy,” he snarled.

He outstretched both hands and began to reform the ice atop her. The edges froze over in new lumpy formations, closing in from all sides.

“No! You monster!” Zora screamed. Her eyes widened in panic, her heart churning up water because it was pounding so fast.

“I gave you a chance,” he said. “You never asked for mercy.”

The ice came rushing in from both sides. Zora took a deep breath and plunged below as the ice snapped shut like a razer blade just above her. She had only moments to live, seconds to decide. But what could she do? The ice ran from shore to shore. She closed her eyes. Perhaps she could get out, but it might kill her. She shook that off. She was going to die anyway but choosing that for oneself carried a different weight.

She had no choice.

She put her hands to the ice above, feeling the cold. She channeled energy from her scar. It fought to go everywhere, to her chest, feet, arms, but she harnessed it, pulling it in like a steer on a rope, forcing every ounce of energy into her palms. The heat flashed under her skin, lighting up her garments and giving a peek into the dark waters. Bubbles began to rise as steam hissed and crackled below the frozen surface. The ice began to melt.

Her lungs were on fire and her arms screamed for a moment to rest, but she shoved it out of her mind. Pain had come to her mind many times to take her away and she had never let it. She would not start now.

Her neck was glowing white to the point she could barely see. Clouds of steam bubbles shot to the surface, and then she was through! The ice splintered and her hands felt cold air whip across their surface. With great effort she drove her body upward and the surface shattered around her shoulders.

She rose out of that lake like some child of the earth, reborn in fire and smoke. She pushed off the ice with her feet and hauled herself onto her back, coughing and sputtering as steam rose all around her. She wanted to take a moment to breathe. She could reassess and regain a bit of strength, but she knew that she would never move again if she didn’t go now.

She flipped onto her stomach, pouring flame into the ice as she rose. She was enveloped in a swirl of steam and smoke and took one step after another. She scooped up her poker. Luthor was near the shoreline, completely oblivious.

She dragged the poker along the ice, pouring all her magic into it. It seared a deep wound into the ice that sputtered and hissed with steam. As she took each step, she moved a little quicker, until she was at a jog. She gripped the poker handle tightly as she closed in on Luthor.

“Luthor!”

He turned, the color draining from his face and confusion furrowing his brows.

“Forgot to finish me off!”

She launched a wave of steam from her poker, shrouding him with hot air. She screamed like a wraith and jumped into the fray. He was nothing more than a dark shape, arms swirling as he fought to turn the steam back into icicles, frost, anything he could. She shot a tongue of fire out of the poker his way, and the moment he turned to block it with ice she was evaporating more, showering him with scalding rain.

His screams echoed in the mist, though she could see nothing more than his dark shape. He crumpled to his knees. She strode forward. He was still fighting, hands blasting cold air to his melted face. His skin was peeling, pock-marked with bright red burns that burrowed deep enough to see muscle tendon, and the chinbone protruding from underneath his helmet.

Zora lashed out, striking his hand with her poker. The curved bit tore into his palm, and he screamed again. He tried to swing with his free hand, but she yanked the poker, and he careened to the side as it tore his hand in half with a wave of blood.

He collapsed back to his knees. She stuck her poker to his chin, turning it hot orange.

“Renariath might have a future here, but you will not.”

“You are so blind,” Luthor whimpered, clasping his torn hand as blood gushed out over the ice.

“Is that all you have to say?” Zora said, fighting back tears.

“I will see you in Zedon,” he snapped.

“Fool to the end. You should have asked for mercy.”

The poker glowed hot white and he burst into flame so bright that all the armies of King Suven and the Renarii host could see from across Lake Heron. Calazan could still be theirs. All they had to do was defeat Fire Wraith. And as Luthor had said, she was pretty hard to finish off.