One summer day, my brother and I were in the front yard, dinking around with boffer swords, because we are nerds.
Furthermore, because we are nerds, we decided to role-play it, and began to make something up spontaneously. The result sparked a thought and captured my intrigue, eventually germinating into the following short story or draft, and now blossoming into a full-fledged story idea. Since this is essentially a rough draft, and much has been changed, I am now putting this out there for the public to enjoy. I hope you enjoy it.
“The council has heard of your treachery, Dragus. Have you anything to say in your defense?”
The sorcerer laughed bitterly. “You know as well as I it makes no difference what I say. They have sent you here to kill me.”
There was no point in denying it. “Yes.”
“They send you here, to kill me in my own tower, my home.”
“And they send only three men?” he spat. “They underestimate my power.”
“Or perhaps you have underestimated us.” He shouldn’t have boasted, he knew that, he had just lost the element of surprise, but he was tired, he was thirsty, he wasn’t thinking straight. For months they’d been chasing this cursed sorcerer, and he wanted this business over with.
“The council has awoken the old magic.” he said, hoping to turn his gaffe into intimidation. It worked. Although the sorcerer was concealed in shadow, he drew a sharp breath, then regained his composure.
“That magic cannot harm me.” he said contemptuously. “I bear the talisman of Chael.”
If this presented a problem, then the young warrior didn’t show it. He merely drew his weapon, followed shortly by his companions.
“Fools,” spat Dragus, and drew his own weapon. The torchlight flickered, then vanished. The room grew chill, and a breeze swept the curtains aside, bathing the scene in cold, pale moonlight. The warrior couldn’t help but shudder as the sorcerer revealed himself. Read More…