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Rated: ASR · Draft · Fantasy · #2298976
A excerpt from my fantasy novel where a sorcerer and an elemental daemon fight.
"Snekkja, daemon of the storm, come meet with me. That is your desire is it not, harassing Ardenland thus? Your quarrel is with me, come and hear me out," Loyfti called, twisting his fingers to draw a rune.

A rune of fire — Eledy recognised the shape of the rune sketched in ethereal lights suspended in the air from Loyfti’s magic books. The strength of the wind tore from his fingers and carried over the waste until the sparking smoke trail vanished to nothing.

Jasnie folded her arms, pinning her billowing cloak about her. “He's not coming. The rune got taken from you too soon.”

Loyfti released his tense shoulders. "Perhaps you're right."

Catching the forlorn note in his voice, Eledy stepped closer to him. “Maybe there are other spells?"

Loyfti fought to open his spell book. The pages became hungry jaws trying to snap closed over his fingers as the wind ruffled them.

Sleet pounded, stinging and blinding. Eledy cringed.

Abruptly it stopped. Opening her smarting eyes wide, she found the spirit of the storm before her. Lean and tall with winter starvation, Snekkja’s skin and garb were indigo like a twilit sky. His cloak lashed in tatters about him as clamorously as the flames of an inferno. He moved unpredictably and bore down in a sudden sally upon those who met his gaze, making the watching Ardenlanders cower back.

Loyfti stepped forward, holding out his open palms. “Snekkja, quiet your rage that I may speak with you.”

The daemon howled a laugh, beating his chest with bravado. The onlookers clutched at each other to stop their feet being blown from under them. Although he stood firm, pretending he was unfazed, the tight set of Loyfti’s lips showed how rage emanated from him like inferno heat. Eledy decided she wouldn’t like to be on the receiving end of it, though her heart told her she never would be.

"Listen to me, Snekkja. All I want is to talk," Loyfti demanded, his voice less strong than usual though his numbed lips.

Snekkja’s ice eyes fixed on a point beyond Loyfti as though he did not see him.

Loyfti cleared his throat again. “These people are innocent in this. Stop before I compel you to do so by summoning a spell of protection over the whole citadel."

Loyfti caught Snekkja's attention as he began to draw runes for the spell of protection, the soft green light of the runes bathing the citizens accompanying him as if they had stepped into the dappled shade of a woodland bower.

Eledy’s deep exhalation caught in her throat as the storm spirit forced Loyfti back off his feet, holding him in the tornado whirling from his fist. The Talibereth metal that filled Loyfti’s body as he was transformed into a Sky Skiff was lighter than the bones it replaced, making lifting him in the air an easy task.

“Don’t try and bluff me, boy. You have the strength to conjure protection for a whole city? Hah!” Snekkja’s jibe reverberated jaggedly in Eledy’s ears.

Opening his lips with a roar, Snekkja spat a tornado that twisted about Loyfti, catapulting him back against a tree. Pain clouded Loyfti's face as a branch snagged him, cutting through the chinks in his armour into his back.

The wind pushed so strongly in Eledy's face that she could not breathe and her yell to Loyfti was torn from her lips. Skin blotched blue, suffocating, Loyfti fought for release. The gale pushed his limbs back as easily as if he were a doll.

Snekkja snarled with relish, pelting hail over Loyfti and those nearby. Eledy's face stung like it had been bitten by a swarm of giant bees. Tearing the branches from the tree, Snekkja tossed them like javelins at Loyfti. They clanged off his armour, making him grimace.

"Get back. Step away from him," Eledy commanded, forcing herself towards the daemon against the force of the storm.

The surprise of her appearance momentarily broke the dire grip of the fight. Even the wind dropped. The wind daemon stilled to look at her. She faced him, sword raised, alert and fierce. Her mind was branded by the picture of Loyfti pressed against the tree behind her. Of Loyfti being hurt.

She locked eyes with the daemon, his gaze deep as the heart of a maelstrom. "You will step away from Loyfti."

The daemon looked over the young woman facing him and chuckled, sending leaves spiralling. "And who are you? A mere girl, no magic wielder.”

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