This week's prompt was a little different:
You must use one of the following sentences/sentence starters and two of the words listed at the bottom in your story this week.
1. He hadn't seen the old man since
2. This time it wouldn't be so easy to fool them.
3. He watched, helpless, as the door closed behind her
4. The attack was over in seconds
5. His voice had never sounded so cold
asinine, computation, radical, evangelical, dirty
I chose sentence number 5 and the words radical and dirty. Of course I chose dirty. haha
Remember to visit my FF partners-in-crime:
The Great Mage (Week 2)
Harvey could make out Sylivius, the Black Mage, as he ran parallel to him through the trees. They glanced at each other one last time before the woods swallowed them and they could no longer see one another. Tall trees blocked out the sun. Thick brush made it next to impossible to find any semblance of a trail, but that’s what the signs were for. If Harvey could find one of the Great Oaks sign markers, he would know where he was on the map in his pack.
He’d been running for so long he was starting to tire. He wondered why Sylvius had led him this far into the trees. The more Harvey studied the area, the wearier he became. He’d never been this far before. Something told him they were away from thick of the kingdom war and headed to the edge of the woods.
The brush was too overgrown. There wasn’t enough foot traffic from gameplay here. Foliage was greener on this side. The trees seemed taller. The silence was eerie.
Harvey dropped to one knee in a shaded cluster of ferns. He took a water bottle from his pack and guzzled greedily. His cloak was beginning to make him sweat. Good thing he hadn’t worn a shirt, else he’d have soaked right through it. He was glad he’d splurged on new calf-skin boots last month. They’d finally worn in enough to be soft in the sole, yet cushy where it counted. Still, though, they dug into his calves a bit with their many ties. Or maybe he was feeling the effects of all the running.
Harvey put away his water bottle. He pulled open the strings of his pack to dig inside.
“Where is it,” he mumbled, sticking his hand to the bottom to find his rolled up map. “I know I brought my map.”
From out of nowhere the map smacked to the ground in front of him. Harvey gasped, searching his surroundings for an explanation. Birds chirped. Leaves fluttered. No one else was around. The map had come out of thin air.
“How the hell?” Harvey slowly picked up his map. His fingers shook as he unraveled it. A glow raced across the single canvas roll before winking away. Harvey squeaked, letting the map fall back to the ground. He swallowed hard, scared to touch the thing.
Bent over the hand painted scroll he’d created himself, Harvey watched as images bled across the map, coming to life before his very eyes. The White Kingdom’s flag waved. Tiny knights on horses charged across the land, headed for the Great Oaks square. Sylivius had his own figure, a small black flame, heading across a boundary called…
“The Silver Realm?” Harvey gawked. “I think I’m on drugs.” He rubbed his eyes then fell onto his ass when a small troop of black knights roared across the scroll. They clashed with the white knights. Another figure raced away from the battle. This figure was red and was depicted as a dragon.
Harvey snatched the map up and went to his feet. He brought the map closer. The Red Knight was headed his way, judging by his own location. Whatever was happening, whatever prank this was, Harvey knew he wasn’t sticking around to battle the Red Knight so far away from the others. He wasn’t ready. He’d been too preoccupied with Sylvius to prepare himself with weapons and magic…fake magic.
Then another thought occurred to Harvey. If the map had come to life, however impossible it seemed, what if other things had come to life, such as him? His hand with the map fell to his side. Harvey slowly reached under his cloak to the rings harnessed at his back. He unsnapped the straps, letting the lightweight, metal rings fall into his hand.
No bigger than a Frisbee, with the middle hollowed out for his grip, Harvey stared at the rings. He’d had them custom made by a friend out of old hubcaps and done the etchings himself. They were childish as he couldn’t afford to have a professional craft them. His outfit of true leather leggings, calf-skin boots, and his velvet cloak had cost all his savings. He’d never thought he would use the rings before now.
They were his backup on the field. Without spells to get him by, he’d chosen to create Chakrams. In an online game Chakrams, items that held a mage’s power, became weapons that connected with their magic. On the LARP field they would be hard to use, but he’d wanted them so badly. Now they were his only defense against the enemy.
Harvey had thought to use the rings instead of a wand or staff. He didn’t want to be the cliché wizard or magician. He wanted to be a mage, a really cool one.
And now he was.
The rings responded to his touch. Once a dull silver, they morphed into a flawless gold. Sharp teeth grew from the edges like shark fins all swimming clockwise. The teeth stopped to either side of his hand. The rings shimmered, creating intricate engravings across the metal. Rune symbols burned into the metal; symbols he recognized for power, strength, and courage.
“Holy shit.” Harvey stared at them. He dropped the map and it disappeared, only to reappear in his pack below. “This isn’t real. I’m tripping.”
Harvey looked up. He made out a faint ripple through the woods. Something was happening out of his realm of thought. He couldn’t process any of it. He only knew it was time to go. Whatever was going in was something he couldn’t change unless he decided to wake up from this freaky dream. He bent to grab his pack, only to have it vanish. A light weight slithered over his back. A thick, buckled strap slid into place over chest.
When he looked down, the strap contained vials of brightly colored liquids sloshing around. A gold medallion with a red stone pressed against his pectoral, rubbing his nipple with cool metal. Around the stone was the symbol for the White Kingdom. Harvey slowly glanced up in shock.
Role playing had been his life. Up until now it was his only escape from the world outside; a cruel place that denied him existence. He’d dreamed of a moment like this, a means to run away and drift into the world his mind had conjured. Now it was real. His wish had been granted. A ring in each hand, Harvey took a deep breath.
“I, Aneris, The Great Mage, will bring hell upon your house. For I serve the White King and he is all that is good.” His voice had never sounded so cold. His body had never felt so strong.
He closed his eyes and summoned the magic that had never existed before now. A storm of impossibility brewed in his chest, reaching his eyes until they burned bright with his power. In his hands the rings began to stir, wafting golden tendrils like smoke on the wind. Tattooed rings of green encircled his bare forearms and around his chest, stamping a magical claim upon his body.
“Yes,” Harvey growled. “Yes,” he repeated louder to the forest canopy. His hood ripped back under the onslaught of wind that tunneled around him.
He was now Aneris, The Great Mage forevermore.
His wind broke away as he swiveled around. His cloak billowed in a circle, whipping around his legs as he turned to face the red-armored horsemen charging towards him. The radical change in Aneris’s confidence kept him grounded in the face of absolute danger. He lifted his rings, ready for battle.
The horse raced forward. Red flames trailed behind its hooves and down its mane. With eyes the color of crimson, the dark horse was just as determined to reach him as its rider. Aneris’s newfound confidence wavered.
What was he doing? He was just a geek from the burbs playing a game with his people. He wasn’t a mage in a magical forest getting ready to slay the Red Knight. Oh, but he was. Aneris screamed when the Red Knight’s helmet became visible from out of the shadows. Blood-red metal was flawlessly molded into the head of a dragon. Yellow human eyes blinked from behind two narrowed slits.
A broad, crimson plate of chest armor depicted a curling dragon. Flame-shaped plates stacked and twined over the Red Knight’s shoulders. Black boots encircled the knight’s feet and legs, all the way up to the hip. And on those wide hips was a red blade that made Aneris back away. Corrugated on one side and smooth on the other, the Red Knight’s sword was a thing of legend; a legend formerly of make-believe with a kill count that could make any nerd weep.
However, this was no longer a fantasy. This was real and that sword could kill Aneris with one swipe of its red hot metal. At the moment Aneris struggled between his fear of the Red Knight and his lust for him. For as fearsome at the man’s reputation was, he was also large and muscled and powerful to Aneris. He spoke of dark and dirty things that tempted Aneris’s cock from his leathers.
The Red Knight was danger. He was sex. He was bad to the bone.
The horse stopped six feet from Aneris and lifted its front legs in warning. The Red Knight nudged his foot into its side, bringing it back on all fours. “The Great Mage of the White Kingdom, how perfect you should be so unprotected this far out. I presume you’re after me?”
Aneris sucked in air through his nose. He swallowed and gripped his rings tighter. “I am,” he squeaked, horrified at his own voice.
“Such a pretty little thing, you are. I might be inclined to keep you should you prove of use to me.” The Red Knight slid from his horse, planting his large feet on the ground. His metal armor clinked as he took a step forward to tower over Aneris.
“Of what use would I be to you?” Aneris thrust his rings forward, bidding the Red Knight caution.
“I could think of many things,” the Red Knight husked. He cocked his head, scouring Aneris’s body with his yellow eyes.
Aneris’s mouth went dry. “I’ll kill you before you lay a hand on me.”
“I would think you’d like my hands on your smooth, little body.” The Red Knight laughed behind his dragon helmet. He growled, shoulders hunching over to lean in. “And I would also presume you require help to bring down Sylvius.”
“Stop talking about my body!” Aneris quivered. He took another step back. Lust and fear pit against him in a battle to end them all. “And I’ll take out Sylvius on my own, thank you very much.”
“Such a feisty little thing, you are. I quite like that. In fact, I like it very much. I have no doubt you are a threat to Sylvius’s life and you could hold your own if you knew what you were doing. But as it stands, you don’t, and people take caution when a rogue is afoot. Your survival would be prolonged if we were to stay together.”
Aneris narrowed his eyes. “I don’t trust you.”
“You shouldn’t.” The Red Knight came closer.
“What’s in it for you?”
“Sylvius and I go way back. We used to be friends before he chose to side with the Black King—”
“But you sided with the Black King, too! And this is…this is stupid! You’re a player in a game, just like I am. The plot isn’t real. This isn’t real. It’s all fantasy.”
“Is it, Aneris? Can’t you feel the pull to the other side?”
“Stop it.” Aneris backed away, scared shitless. “Whatever, this is a game and you’re the enemy. I have to bring you back to my king.”
The Red Knight’s eyes darkened to gold. “But my dearest Aneris, I thought you liked bad boys.”
TO BE CONTINUED…