The Stones of Arcory – Chapter Thirty Seven – Better Times
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I could hear the thing of primal fire crackling as it tracked us as we ran through the trees towards the flowing waters that were my only hope of casting it down. Glances back revealed its fury – the trunks of the forested great trees burst into flames and smoke as it followed our path at alarming speed. I was almost out of breath when I reached the river’s edge, the border of slick moss covered boulders cut by swiftly flowing water.

A look over at Gwyn showed that she was also breathing heavily, but perversely enjoying every moment of this. She held little decorum for one as ancient as she was.

“Reminds you,” she forced out between breaths, “Of better times, doesn’t it?”

More dangerous times, I decided.

I rubbed my knuckles and reached for my staff, which I had laid down on the rocks. A touch and I jerked my hand back. She- no, it was now playing with me as well? I grasped it with both hands tightly, resisted the pain that shot up my arms.

“Not now,” I warned. “Or do you want me to throw you into that thing’s fiery maw!”

Not the wisest thing to say to the enchanted staff you are bound to the death with, but the harsh words had the required effect; the pain subsided.

The smoke had reached us, and the heat. Branches exploded behind the rows of evergreens. It was close. I turned to Gwyn.

“You’d better hold onto something steadfast,” I told her. I was about to invoke an expulsion spell of the fourth degree. “I cannot say what will happen when I cast this.”

She nodded and gripped my free arm, held tight.

I stepped into the water, felt its chill rise up my calves, then turned back to the burning forest, could finally see clearly what we faced as it burst through the brush; an entity of elemental fire. A great one, formed as a column of yellow, orange and red flame as wide as the trees that encircled it. And I knew it had come for me, its heat a certain cone of conflagration was aimed directly at me.

I took my staff in both hands, forced it down into the swirling knee high waters, and finished the spell I had begun. And the river exploded around me with such power the only thing I could be sure of was Gwyn’s tight grip on my arm. Torrents shot around us bursting into steam as they came upon the elemental. And then I lost my grip on my staff and could feel nothing.

The next thing I knew, I was on my knees in the now muddy trickle of water, my arms and hands crackling with agony, a torrential rain falling down on me, on us. Gwynhafer was still a hold of me, her hand wiping my vision free. She was soaked. As was I. But she was smiling yet again.

“You did it, my wizard,” she stated proudly. “Just like I knew you would.”

I gasped while my hands painfully throbbed, looked back into her shining eyes.

“I could have shown a little more finesse,” I finally forced out.

She laughed.

“And ruin all the excitement?”

She helped me to my feet. The waters were returning to the river, but the forest around us was utterly devastated. I could not help but be disappointed, however. If I still held the control I once had, I could have bound the being, could have found out who had sent it. Could have sent it back to him.

I looked into the water at my feet. My twisted staff bobbed on the surface. It – she – too had decided not to abandon me. For now.

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