Writing Prompt: The Battle part 3

This promises to be a hectic summer. Anyway- let’s finish Tenebrae and Albrecht’s story.

Box with ethereal magic elements coming from it amidst other magic-seeming accoutrements. Photo by Vinícius Vieira from Pexels.

Albrecht watched as the wasp landed on Tenebrae’s neck. The small black insect waved its antennae in agitation for a moment then stuck its Velex-laden stinger into him. Tenebrae’s cat-pupiled eyes widened then went unfocused. He fell to the ground. The air around Albrecht, which had seemed to harden and hold him in place, slowly lost its viscosity as Tenebrae’s ability to hold the weave weakened. Handily, this meant that when he could move freely, his brother had lost his grip on consciousness. He shook his shadow-darkened robes; there was nothing on them, but the way the air had moved made him feel they should be as thoroughly sodden as when he’d practiced sneaking up on targets via the bottom of nearby ponds. Then, robes settled, he walked to his current victim.

First things first, he checked the back of the neck carefully. The wasp was gone. Very well. It wouldn’t affect him as much; Velex was only an irritant to those who did not access magic often, but all things being equal, he’d rather not deal with a swelling sting today. That accomplished, he withdrew his binders. When dealing with a mage, it was important they not be able to make their signs or chant incantations; it could be a deadly mistake to forget. The ones he’d brought were custom built; wooden cases with padded leather indentations to hold the fingers and hands firmly but comfortably immobile. They had been fitted on his own hands, and as he placed Tenebrae’s hands within and latched them shut, closing over his whole wrist. Then a strap over his head and jaw to keep his mouth shut. The long hair was difficult to work around and strands of it inevitably got wound into the latches and laces. Albrecht cursed but tried to keep it under control. With that done, he fetched his dagger from the floor and held it a finger’s breadth from Tenebrae’s neck.

“Is that enough?” he called to the sky. “I’ve won. He cannot defeat me. Do I have to finish it or can we declare the contest over?”

A rumble of thunder punctuated by a flash of lightning greeted his statement. The flash was white but the afterimages shaded blue and purple.

“That’s not an answer. Is the contest over? Answer me!”

Another rumble, lower and longer, that sounded almost like consideration. Again a flash of white and purple, and the finger of lightning touched right at the mouth of the cave. The rocks sizzled and jumped and the sound of the thunder was like the crack of colliding boulders. It rolled through the cave with a deafening crash, but rather than the light fading it condensed into a ball on the ground. The light solidified into a box. The contest was done.

Albrecht sheathed his knife and tested Tenebrae’s pulse. It was steady and he was breathing evenly. Good. He’d keep. He left him on the ground and walked to the box. The light had faded into glowing lines of script spelling out the terms of opening the box. Albrecht didn’t read them, he knew the rules by heart.

“By opening this box, I end the contest, I state the terms, and I make my wish. The terms are that the Kingdom of Malarieth accept the independence of the Priory of Nalth and cease attempting to enfold them or interfere in their politics, and delegates may only cross the border with express permission. And for my wish, I wish…” he looked back at his brother, thought over the statement he’d been taught and schooled in by his teachers. And discarded it. “I wish that the combatants of this contest may be returned to their youth, returned to a home on the border, where they may grow up together as they would have had the contest not interfered with their life, with only vague memories of how this all unfolded, and not be touched or bothered by the respective parties again.” That’s the only reward he really wanted.

He opened the box. Light washed over the world, the rain stopped, the skies cleared, and the two disappeared.

In a small farmhouse on the border of the Priory of Nalth, two young boys woke up and stretched. Their parents, an older couple who had wanted children for a long time but had been unable to have any, welcomed them with smiles and a hearty breakfast. It was a new day and the sun was shining. It was time for adventure.

Intellectual Property of Elizabeth Doman
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