Dragons of the Old World

3. Mages of Fire & Ice

"Winning isn't everything. Wanting to is." - Catfish Hunter

I rack my brain for any solutions to my current predicament. What do I remember about school at the orphanage - about the 3 arcane magics of the Vallonians? I see her face, Ms. Greta Snagglewood, a mother of the Cherry Blossom Orphanage. She was a sour, and rough old woman. Known for rapping the knuckles of anyone who answered any of her questions wrong. Think, Maverick, think. I see her standing over me, looming over a much younger version of myself. "What are the arcane magics, Maverick?"

I leaned back in my chair. "Fire. Ice. And water. Easy."

"And what is the source of their power?"

I paused, unsure. Afraid of the ruler in her hands. Ms. Snagglewood hid it behind her back, and said, "The hits are only for naughty children. Now, be a good boy and think - what would be the source of these ancient powers?" She paced in front of me, the green veil and coif of the women who devote their lives to the needs of orphans, trailing behind her. She is one of the mothers, and my least favorite one.

"Well - " I trailed off, looking down at the book in front of me. There are three dragons on the front of it - the great Ice, Fire, and Water dragons. "I would guess the dragons."

"Yes, excellent." She raised her voice. "Children, you need not fear the dragons. They died long ago. But their magic, however - their magic can be found throughout the valley. In every animal, in every tree, even in you and me." She then leaned over my desk, signifying that I was not off the hook. "Last question. A harder one, but important for all to know. Which magics are faster?"

"Um -"

"Which mages can summon their magic the fastest?"

I rubbed my knuckles, not knowing the answer. Knowing that a crack of that ruler was doomed for my hands. Think, Maverick, think. What mages are faster? The scene fades from my memory.

What mages are faster?

"Fire." I say to myself, turning my shield to the fire mages who extend their fingers, lighting off marble-sized flares that fly through the air like small rockets. They bounce off my shield as I hide behind it, one flare hitting my shoulder and singing right through my peasant's sheep-skin shirt. I quickly blow it out since I currently have no hands free, and see a black mark on my shoulder.

There's not much time. The ice mages are summoning icicles above their heads - the deadly ice javelins. I know that when fired, they explode, shooting shrapnel that embeds itself in anyone unlucky enough to be in its path. I look around, watching the fire mages close in, pull out the whips they strap to their backs. Lighting them on fire.

Cover. I need it. Now.

I rush over to hide behind the nearest column, as an ice javelin flies over my shoulder. Barely missing my head. The weapon of pure ice flies across the throne room, colliding with the wall and shattering into shrapnel. I cover my face, and rush behind the furthest column, as another ice javelin flies across the room, and the third collides with my column.

My heart pounds in my ears. The fire mages start to close in, slowly, deliberately, tauntingly. Taking each step slowly like I'm a deadly and unpredictable predator, as opposed to a lamb about to piss himself. I hear the popping sounds of javelins being summoned, and know that the ice mages are ready for me on the other side.

Then, there's King Eni's voice. "Do you see, Maverick? Listen to the pounding of your heart. Let it guide you."

"I'm not listening to anything you say, you crazy lunatic!"

I contemplate my other options. The fire mages will shortly be in range. Any running risks a potentially deadly ranged attack. The fire whips crackle and singe, and I can feel their heat as the approach, only a few yards away.