Page 55 of Fading Sun

I need to focus on defending myself. Which, given the fact that the monks seemingly don’t have magic, isn’t hard.

The two I was fighting are on the ground, bleeding and broken in ways that will take months to heal. But, as I intended with the nature of my attacks, they’re still alive.

Their blades are a few feet away from them, out of their reach, making them no longer threats.

The sounds of the fight slowly quiet down.

Then the Abbot screams from across the chamber, raises his weapon, and runs at me.

I channel my magic into a sun burst and send it directly at his hand holding his sword, hitting my mark perfectly.

He cries out in pain, drops the weapon, and suddenly Blaze is there, wrapping the Abbot in a headlock and pressing the edge of his blade against his neck.

Blood drips down from the cut, but it’s not deep enough to be fatal.

The clangs of weapons die down to nothing. The air stills. Morgan’s fire burns, but it’s contained as a ball of dancing flames in her hand instead of snakes wrapped around another monk’s body.

No more monks attack.

We’re all simply standing here, frozen, as if one move will make Blaze slash his dagger across the Abbot’s neck.

“This dagger is enspelled to make me undefeatable,” Blaze says, keeping the Abbot tight in a headlock. “And, from the looks of your men here, I recommend against continuing to fight. Just bring us the rest of the crystals, and we’ll get out of here.”

The Abbot, his face pale, swallows hard and glances around at his men sprawled throughout the room. “Are any of you able to walk?” he asks them.

Four of the monks speak up, although they remain off at the sides of the chamber, their swords hanging by their sides.

“Good,” the Abbot says. “Because I need two of you to go upstairs and fetch the remaining crystals.”

Yes.

Victory.

“Sir.” One of the less severely injured monks steps forward, thinking better of it when the fire ball in Morgan’s hand grows bigger. “Are you sure?”

“There’s a witch holding a dagger to my neck.” The Abbot snarls, more blood trailing down his throat as Blaze’s blade digs deeper. “Yes, I’m sure.”

The monks take a moment to decide which of the two of them will go get the crystals. They select the least injured of the group, who swiftly make their way through the door and up the stairs.

“If they bring anything other than those crystals down with them, then you’re dead,” Blaze says in the Abbot’s ear. “Understood?”

“Yes,” the Abbot says, and I keep my eyes on the rest of the monks as we wait, ready to defend myself if they try anything.

Given that most of them are nursing broken bones and nasty burns, I doubt they’ll attack again. But I also didn’t think they’d whip ancient weapons out of their robes, so it’s best to prepare for anything.

Finally, the monks return, one of them holding a small chest.

“Don’t come any closer,” Damien instructs them, as if the chest might contain a bomb. “Place it down where you are and open it.”

They comply, setting the chest down by their feet. One of them flips the latch and opens the lid, revealing the amber crystals nestled inside, each emitting a pale, mesmerizing glow.

I exhale, relief and anticipation washing over me as I step forward to inspect the crystals.

Damien keeps a watchful eye on the monks, and Morgan’s flames flicker menacingly, a silent but potent threat. Blaze, of course, keeps his blade pressed against the Abbot’s neck.

The crystals look the same as the ones we were holding before. They call to me, and holding my dagger with one hand, I reach down and pick one up. It’s the same weight as the others, and the same warm magic pulses from inside it.

Carefully, I return to my sun disc, crystal in hand.

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