A Collection of Stories

OF SACRED BONDS

"Dedicated to A.C. SUTLIFF who challenged me to try my hand at an action-fantasy piece. Hope you enjoy it!"

Rhohandril's glowing eyes squinted into the darkness that had suddenly overcome Second Quarter City. The wild wind rushed at him with the rage of a man wishing to strike him where he stood, but he remained unmoved; his entire aura gave off the determination and alertness of his stance and his sixty-foot post on the Second Quarter Tower entitled him a full view of the city.

He spoke into the silence from the shadows.

"Where are you?"

A tiny glimmer from the wicked black skies made him switch his position with neck-breaking speed just as a purplish-black blaze shot at the place he'd been standing mere seconds ago, sending the ancient, stained window shattering to bits. With his cloak, he shielded himself from the fragments of glass and splashes of the poisonous liquid that chewed out the floor and whatever it came into contact with. In his peripheral vision, he noted movement and, with an elegant twist of his body, dodged a silver dagger that reflected the cruel gleam of the moon's face which had peeped out from behind the blanket of clouds. Two steps back and a half turn brought him face to face with the mysterious individual. The hooded figure lashed out again, missing his throat by an inch. Rhohandril blocked and evaded each attack with calm and precise movements and the two shadows danced upon the walls as the storm slashed the sky with electric blades of lightning.

"Enough!" Rhohandril said, and with a sharp flick of his wrist, the enemy shot across the room, his dagger making a deathly screech as it slid across the floor.

Rhohandril straightened, placing his hands behind his back authoritatively.

"Show yourself."

The form huddled on the floor let out a soft chuckle. The figure snapped their fingers and purplish-black fire shot up from the floor, creating a circle around them. Now on his feet, his outward appearance started peeling away; the long, gnarled fingers became smooth and slender, the dark hood crimpled and curled like paper near fire, revealing a young, feminine face with eyes that flickered and flashed like the flames surrounding her.

"Hello, dear," she said, wearing a malicious grin.

"Rhohannas--?" An energy bolt caught him by surprise and sent him flying across the polished stone floors. Interlacing his fingers, he balanced himself and regained his footing at the very edge of the blown in stained glass. Caught by unawares, an invisible blow sent him falling over the edge. She jumped after him and they battled one another, the wind screaming in their ears and the thunder clashing against the sky's grim pallor.

At forty feet, Rhohandril, with his index and middle finger, drew a circle in the air and cast it down with his palm. The two landed on the illusion floor, which vibrated and glowed blue with every forceful impact. With precise alacrity, he placed his palm on the glowing circle beneath him, turned his wrist and cast another to his right, then his left. The additional glowing spheres vibrated and expanded, stretching to conjoin with the others he cast.

"Your spells can no longer contain me, Rhohandril," the woman said with a sneer. "I'm free of the Olocost magic." She turned her head, revealing snake-like veins that moved just beneath the skin of her neck, creating an almost polygonal shape. A glowing red S whose head resembled that of a serpent centered the polygon, which gave her skin a deadly gray colour.

"What have they done to you?" Rhohandril breathed with a mixture of pity and rage.

Rhohannas gritted her perfectly straight teeth while her eyes laughed coldly.