Wind at her back, pushing her long, braided strands of hair everywhere, Sora stood at the top of the hill, staring down at the village below. The sword in her hand was beautiful, one of the greatest Ling had crafted. On the hilt were symbols different from Ling’s, for they said the words “Dragon Master”. She thought it sounded ridiculous, but there was no swaying the man. Stubborn. Regardless, she had the power to level this small town in a single blow. Raising her sword, she inhaled deeply.
With the exhalation, she brought the blade down in front of her. A line of fire ten feet across cut through the village. Many people were in the literal line of fire. Sora licked her lips when she heard the screams. Delicious.
“You take too much pleasure in torture, Sora,” Ling said from behind her.
“I just love expressing my power through violence.”
“You’re a bad person.”
“You’re the one who gave me the power to do that.” She motioned to the village with her sword. “And…this.”
A pentagram with a circle around it, made entirely of fire, descended from the sky and laid like a molten sheet over the town.
“I wouldn’t have done that. That was excessive, and a waste of your energies.”
“But so satisfying. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“It may give satisfaction, but it’s a total waste.”
“Stop thinking, old man, and act like I am.” She turned back to the village in flames, smiling. Ling couldn’t stop thinking about how good the young woman looked. A beauty, but a cold-hearted one. She was more powerful than him, too. She could wipe him out and not have any remorse, except maybe that her dear sword-maker would not be around to make her anything special. “How do you think those guards caught on to us?” she asked.
“Someone must have overheard, doubtful as that might sound.”
“Wouldn’t that mean that someone besides us has some sort of power? We couldn’t detect anybody around during our meetings.”
“I do not know. We will see.”
“The time to speak is over. We must reach our targets.”
“Who is it this time?”
“The magistrate of a province not far from here.”
“What did he do?”
“He passed unjust laws, ridiculous taxations of the citizens.”
“So now you choose to be a hero?”
“I’ve always been a hero, Ling.”
“I’ve been looking at it from different points of view, Sora, and we are hated by everyone. Those merciless acts of yours, of mine, and yet we call ourselves just. We call ourselves heroes. We’re destroyers, and we call ourselves builders. I don’t want to do this anymore, Sora. I don’t want to contradict myself like this.”
“The dead have no means of contradicting themselves, Ling.”
“So you threaten to kill me?”
“There’s no way out, old man.” To prove her point, a hemisphere of fire covered them. There truly was no escape.
“You forget my fighting prowess.”
“I am impervious to this fire. I could collapse it in on us, and leave unscathed.”
“I can cut my way out, woman. I want no part in your schemes anymore.”
“Save yourself, fool. I’m going to do this whether I have you to accompany me or not.” Walking out of the fiery prison, Sora cackled.
Ling grimaced at having to use his abilities like this, but he applied the Demon aspect of his sword and burrowed underground, tunneling to a place outside the hemisphere of flame. After reaching the surface, he looked around. Sora was flying away, massive wings beating rhythmically. Ling sighed, spat on the ground, and turned into a falcon, flying away from her as fast as he could. When he got to a place where nobody knew him—or knew of him—he would melt that sword down and forge a good blade, something about which legends might be written.
Note: I've had a great time writing this, and can't wait for the conclusion, since I haven't written it yet.
No comments:
Post a Comment