Author Games: The Final War

Finals: Randy Barrett

            “I am severely disappointed with your planning skills, mind-slave!” Randy rolled his eyes, a relatively foolish maneuver as it took his eyes off of the forest floor. He tripped almost immediately over a fallen tree branch, causing him to tumble to the ground. His taskmaster let out a little squeak as he landed on her and rolled to his feet, but Randy doubted she was seriously injured. She was wearing too many clothes for that to happen.

            “Well, Miss Mind Strong, I was perhaps a little busy runnin’ for our lives and carryin’ you to safety. Besides, I thought you were goin’ to be the brains of this operation?” Lydia sat up and dusted herself off, glaring at him.

            “Still, are you serious? Trying to hide from a Fire Strong by running into a forest?”

            Randy had to admit that she had a point as a thin cord of flame wrapped around a tree over their heads, setting the upper branches on fire. Two hundred feet behind them, Epping Collin pushed his way through the brush, a fireball kindling on one fist.

            “Get us out of here!” Lydia commanded, standing up and gesturing imperiously. Sighing, Randy bent and scooped her up in his arms, beginning to flee once again. Epping’s fireball, significantly larger than it had been a second ago, whizzed over his shoulder, singeing the hairs on his arms and lighting one of Lydia’s fluffy underskirts on fire. She patted it out hastily as Randy leaped a brook, ducked under a low hanging branch, and plowed through a thick line of bushes. Behind them, the forest continued to burn merrily, Epping chasing them and hurling the odd fireball with a swearword.

            On Lydia’s instruction, Randy vaulted a log and broke out of the thick undergrowth of the forest into a grassy clearing. He ducked a blast of bright orange flame and dumped Lydia on the ground unceremoniously. With her out of his arms, he spun, taking a wide, strong stance as Epping forced his way out of the brush, igniting it in the process.

            “Kill him!” Lydia shrieked, scrambling to her feet and pointing at Epping.

            “Miss Mind Strong,” Randy replied. “Wouldn’t it be safer just to tell the nice Fire Strong to stop?”

            “Don’t be ridi-” Lydia began irately. Then she paused. “Oh. That’s actually a good idea. You there! I command you to stop attacking us and become my mind slave.”

            Epping paused for a moment, looking at the imperious little munchkin in confusion.

            “There,” Lydia said with satisfaction. “That’s handled. Now, I’ve been missing my favorite soaps. Come over here and hold Randy’s ha-”

            Epping’s fireball nearly took her head off. As it was, she barely managed a squeal of terror and an agile leap to one side. Randy watched in amusement as she leaped away from another flaming attack, and began running around frantically. He vaguely wondered whether this was the most physical activity she’d done yet in the arena.

            “Why isn’t this working?” Lydia yelled. “Stop it! Enough! Cease and desist! Ix-nay on ireballs-fay!”

            “I ain’t quite sure why th’ mind voodoo ain’t workin, Miss Mind Strong,” Randy said cheerfully. “Whatever he’s doin’ seems to be quite effective, though. Mind if I ask him for his secret?”

            “Kill him!” Lydia ordered, panic tainting her voice as blue-white flames seared the air mere inches from her face. Randy sighed heavily.

            “Yes, Miss Mind Strong. Oh well. I bet he’s excellent conversation.” Randy slid into a deeper stance and inhaled. Epping, apparently remembering that tiny Mind Strongs were the least of his problems, turned to face Randy, a whip of yellow flame crackling brightly. With a yell, he swung the whip wide, hoping to trap and injure his opponent quickly.