Fire & Ice: War Games

‘Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning.’

Unknown


As the first golden rays of the sun crested above the sprawling emerald landscape, the castle’s archers took their positions. Infantrymen swarmed across the timber causeways to the stone walls and quickly entrenched themselves atop the eighty-five foot parapets. Young boys hurried back and forth, stocking the vats of fire for the archers and soldiers. Barnyard animals clattered within their enclosures; women and children fled to the safety of the private apartments, carved from the rocky hill, inside the castle grounds.

Metal clinked as the cavalry mounted their horses and weapons where generously distributed through the ranks of the zealous defenders. Silent prayers were breathlessly whispered into the early dawn hours like wisps of smoke upon the wind. A hailstorm of arrows fell from the gold-crimson sky prophetically heralding the beginning of the end. Shields raised above their heads; the sentry garrison deflected the assault. The castle’s archers eagerly returned with their own swarm of arrows, each hungrily seeking a target of their own.

Ghastly howls rippled through the ranks of the attacker’s barbaric forces like a stone dropped into a calm pond. The animal fur-covered barbarians banged the blades of their swords against the small circular wooden shields. Inhaling deeply, they appeared to double in size before the castle’s defenders’ eyes. Stomping their callused, bare feet on the grass, they surged forward as their war cries echoed in the thunderous air.

Dirty, disheveled and clothed in their animal hides, the barbarians tumbled down the slope like an ocean of flesh. Droplets of moisture clung to the dark hairs of the hides; splinters of green grass were plastered to their hairy legs. Saliva dripped from their mouths and snaked through the labyrinth that formed their beards. Beneath a shower of arrows, the haggard men were swept down into the algae-infested waters of the moat. Agonizing cries pierced the chaotic war cries as blood pooled to the murky surface. To their horrific surprise, the water trap concealed razor-sharp pikes.

“These muggles are too easy to manipulate, this almost seems unworthy of our stature. Almost.” A deep baritone voice barked with laughter as the owner amusedly watched the drama playing itself out before them.

Wind played leisurely with the silvery blond hair of the voice’s companion as they watched the castle slowly began to fall below their perch on the rolling hillside. Smokey silver eyes glanced at man next to him. “They serve a purpose, Pettigrew. They serve a purpose.”




Deep within the castle’s sheltering walls a figure swept soundlessly through the chilly dungeon. Black satin billowed in the warm torch light as the figure hurried down the stone corridors, past and beyond the edges of the sparse lighting. A pale hand emerged from the dark material with a soft whisper and hovered before the wall. A slender branch of ebony wood, smooth and polished, slipped from the sleeve of the garment and into the waiting hand as though summoned by magic.

Holding the slender object above the stone wall, the figure’s eyes closed as words softly crept from his mouth in a strained whisper. The fathomless darkness shriveled into oblivion as a swirl of deep blue gripped the hallway. Beads of moisture collected on his brow as his tongue danced across his teeth with every word trickling from his mouth. Strands of silky, raven hair clung to his face as the beads trickled down his body, clutching the elegant fabric to his torso as though it were a second skin.

The last syllables escaped his parched lips in a primitive, hoarse cry. The raging current of electricity contorted sharply, drawing on the figure’s energy directly before igniting in a dazzling display of colors. The wall groaned before begrudgingly giving way to the invisible force summoned by the figure’s tongue. The wall bucked violently as rays of silvery light cut through the mortar. The stone bricks shuddered, slowly pulling apart from one another far enoughrevereveal its secret. The silvery light gave way to the piercing gold as he made his way through the narrow passageway, his lean frame hinghing against the jagged, rough texture of the walls as he side-stepped through.

Soft and sultry violet light greeted him as he reached his destination. Slipping into the large chamber, he withdrew a small silver box no larger then a match box and set it upon the marble wall of the fountain. The single sapphire stone glistened up at him from its perch; he smirked before slipping from the chamber. “Utinam logica falsa tuam philosophiam totam suffodiant!”




The fluttering of leathery wings filled the figure’s ears as the weapon seared through his flesh. The silhouettes of his attackers blurred together as he felt the cold stbenebeneath him lurch for him. As the dark form descended upon him, his whispered curse echoed through the dungeon corridors and into the innocent pages of time. “Blood of thy blood, flesh of thy flesh. Weave thy web, bind thy will. Fire and Ice break thee.”






A/N

Big THANK YOU to the goddess of betas, Rycca W., for her wonderful help. Not only with the everyday grammer and spelling, but being a terrific sounding board. An author cannot ask for a better beta then Rycca. Thank you!!!

“Utinam logica falsa tuam philosophiam totam suffodiant!” - translates from Latin - “May faulty logic undermine your entire philosophy!”