The Sun crawled along the firmament, shooing the obscuring clouds from his view. With his great, amber eyes he peered toward the desert town, the intensity of his focus raising the temperature further.
Everdust stood isolated from greater civilization at all sides, build by a party of pioneers who gave up pursuit of the promised land. And now, the citizens had given up their homes. Man and woman, child and old, human, dwarf, and faery alike, sat perched upon the great boulders encircling the town. Many squinted toward Everdust, while others used ramshackle binoculars to look into the town. No one dared set foot into the sacred circleâa ritual symbol of confrontationâsurrounding their home until the quarrel was settled.
The Sun turned his attention to the firmament again. His hundred steeds pulled his great wagon. Their hooves thundered against the air, dragging the great flaming orb in tow, only their divine might made this slog along the sky possible every day. And soon, they would reach the twelfth sea of the firmament, the vast domain of Lady Noon.
The Sun looked to the center of Everdust. Two mages, each having finished their preparations of the magic circle, stood a boltâs length from each other. Each wore a great hat to fend off the heat and a large poncho to obscure their wands, tomes, vials, and familiars.
The first was a wizard. His cerulean hat shifted with the patterns of the seven hundred and twenty-two constellations. His azure cloak was dotted with symbols both erudite and blasphemous. He shifted in his boots, visibly uncomfortable with their fit, but his eyes were weighty with malice and confidence.
The other was a thaumaturgist. His clothing was pitch black, a symbol of humility. Magic was a divine gift, not a right inherent to those of arcane study, and to flaunt your ability through dress was considered an act of contempt. Sweat slipped across the bridge of his freckled nose. He was nervous, but resolute.
The Sun looked before him. Lady Noon sat perched at the boundary to her realm, long legs outstretched, her infinite mane flowing behind her, a glass of the finest of the primordial waters at her plump limps.
She gave the Sun a smile and a wink before tilting her head back and imbibing.
Each mage took their stance, dragging their feet shoulder-width apart, mirroring each other.
The townsfolk looked on with excitement.
The ponchos flew open, revealing their contents beneath.
The horses stampeded toward noon.
A staff of ivory was reached for; carved from the tooth of a great leviathan with a sapphire bleached by the rain, runic numbers of a dead tongue carved delicately along its length.
Lady Noon poured herself a new glass.
A staff of wood was extended; shaped from a branch of Yggdrasil and sprouting acorns along its surface, emerald light shimmered from the leaves that floated about its head.
The Sun passed the boundary of noon, taking a glass from the Lady as his chariot sped across.
A pulse of green aura collided with a pulse of blue. Then another. And another.
Each mage fired successive shots, their spells popping against each other like fireworks before they could hit their mark.
With a flip of the wrist, a spin, and a flourish, the wizard shot an arc of lightning at his adversary.
Using the blood of his forefinger, the thaumaturgist traced a sacred symbol in the air.
Lighting crackled against the scarlet shield before dissipating, another flurry of green orbs shooting from the blue mist.
Undeterred, the wizard dashed forward, parrying the projectiles into nearby property with the shifting tip of his wand.
He pointed down and shot a gust of air beneath himself to fly directly over his opponentâs head. And what should have been an opportunity for an easy shot became a need for evasive action.
The thaumaturgist dodged just as the blackened tendrils shot out from beneath the wizardâs robes, their black flesh slick with sweaty shadow, their lengths lined with chattering teeth. The wizardâs familiar kept him aloft as he advanced on his opponent.
Ducking into a nearby alley, the thaumaturgist made use of his preparations. This fight was months in the making and that time was well spent. Slapping the side of a house, one he remembered drawing a magic circle on the interior of, the wood of the home twisted with a snarl.
It grew and warped, reverting to the tree from which it came before warping further, taking on the shape of a great hound.
It lunged at the wizard, severing his tentacles from his shadow. The wizard rolled across the creatures leafy back as it feasted on his familiar, preparing to push his way through the brush.
Unfortunately for him, his opponent was already breaking through. Each looked at the other in shock before raising their wands at each other again.
The thaumaturgist staggered on the shifting beast beneath him, falling to one knee in time for a bolt of lighting to zip over his head. With one hand palmed at the base and the other twisting the shaft, he marched forward, a stream of fire releasing from the head of his wand at the retreating wizard.
The wizard leapt to the ground, pulling his familiarâs core from shredded, purple pulp, and reached into his poncho for a vial. He smashed them together, a blue mist forming and shifting into an enormous owl.
The wooden hound poised itself for a jump, but a bellowing hoot from the owl stopped it.
The thaumaturgist looked on in confusion as his creature turned its head back to him, a wicked snarl spread along its root teeth.
With a howl branches shot forth from beneath his feet, tearing his black hat from his head and taking a bit of flesh with it.
He retreated further down an alley, the wizard and his two familiars in pursuit.
Through the pulses of energy, the bolts of electricity, and the gnashing of teeth, the thaumaturgist realized heâd nowhere left to run.
In that moment, closer to death than heâd ever imagined heâd be, he remembered his training.
A thaumaturgist believed their power to be of divine origin. They were to say their thanks for their power. They were to use it to the fullest of their ability. And, when backed into a corner, they were to repeat step one.
He ran into the center of town. Out in the open. The bird advanced overhead. The dog advanced from the alley.
He thrust it into the ground.
He prayed, years of training granting him the speed to speak his divine appellation in one word.
The dog closed its mouth around him.
The Sun rolled his shoulders and gave a mighty wink to the thaumaturgist. The young man had prayed, after all.
Veins of flame raked along the tree-like surface of the hound like a lava flow, rupturing into searing puss as they went. The dying screech it gave out was heartbreaking.
The wizard looked toward his opponent.
His freckles glowed with golden light. His bloodânow ichorâretreated into his skull and sealed his wound shut. His spirit, now evaporating from his body like boiling water, crackled like the sun. His irises distorted, warping into magic circles that spread across the surface of his sclera.
The thaumaturgist looked to the owl, its wings flapping, and spoke a divine word.
The bird stopped flapping.
Landing to the ground, it dissipated.
The wizard stood still, worn, his breathing labored from the smoldering hole in his chest. His left lung, heart, and ribs were gone, regeneration impossible due to the blackened cauterization lining the inside of the injury.
He removed his poncho and his hat, his vials and his wands, and prostrated himself before his opponent.
In the Deep Frontier, the last virgin land within the realm of the universe, sits a poor town called Everdust. Off the grid, at the mercy of desert storms, abandoned to die in the uncaring sands, these people call for the aid of mages to help get them through. However, when the mayor becomes so bold as to request the assistance of two mages, the townsfolk learn two important things. Not all magic is created equal. And not all mages get along.
I felt like trying my hand at writing fight scenes by employing two things I learned recently. First is to avoid being too technical. The second is to have it read fast, to better capture the pace of an actual fight. I feel like I did okay on the first one, but stumbled on the second. Mainly because of how cumbersome the word "thaumaturgist" is.
"[WP] Describe a duel between two cowboy wizards in the Wild West"
titsay
discoholicmusic
pixelskylines
annaxmalina
snowghoul
theartofmadeline
blakekathryn
