The Burning Pt. VII
The sky was dark.
Low clouds obscured the sun. The wind was picking up. A few fat raindrops fell onto Elan’s face. The park was all but empty now, as families had taken their children home and the birds had gone to roost. The only sound was the hushed whispers of the wind and the leaves. Far distant, the sounds of commerce were barely audible.
A slight smile flickered across Elan’s lips as he heard the low rumble of thunder.
It was time.
A slight ache filled his body-he would have this over soon. He had wound an intricate, invisible web of Fire, Air, and Earth around his left arm. A multifarious array of knots kept the weave in place except three thin threads that Elan kept tight in his grip. The tension had to be perfect-too tight and the weave would lock and obliterate his arm, too loose and the weave would unravel prematurely, erasing him and a large section of the park from the planet’s surface.
The air was thick and humid as Elan walked slowly through the park. A few deep breaths. This would be over very quickly.
A wicked smile blossomed on Elan’s face as he spotted Ralph. The old sorcerer was sitting on a park bench sipping from a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag. His clothes were the usual drab, stained sort and a tweed flat cap adorned his head. A sharp contrast from Elan’s pristine white suit, though the low light colored his suit more like a bleached bone than the snow white he knew it to be.
Glancing up with a grimace on his leather face, Ralph took a long drag on his bottle and dismissively asked,
“What d'ye want?”
With a smile on his face, Elan stretched out his left hand towards Ralph and commented quietly, “I want you to die,” and snapped his fingers. There was a tiny delay as he pulled the three loose threads of the Power and the weave began to unravel-
With a catastrophic sound like that of a rockslide or of thunder, a torrent of light and power ripped across Tackleford’s park. A cloud of smoke and dust billowed up as Elan smiled through heavy breaths. Well that was that, it seemed.
Turning sideways, Elan glanced down the thick rift in the earth left by his weave-past the sandbox turned to a sheet of glass, past the two trees idly burning ten meters from the gash, past the bubbling pool that was once the plastic playground equipment to the tip of the gash-Ralph still stood.
The old man’s arms were crossed in front of his chest and his head was bowed. His breathing was heavy as he straightened up and pulled the flat cap more securely down on his head, hiding his wispy white hair. He dusted off his pants and smiled-a bifurcated tongue flicked from his mouth for a moment. With his power-enhanced vision, Elan could see Ralph’s golden eyes and their thin vertical slit glowing with an eldritch light.
Murmuring a few words in a language not meant for human lips, Ralph disappeared in a pulse of dark fire and then reappeared a short distance away from Elan. Gathering his breath, Elan readied for Ralph’s counterattack. Chortling slowly, Ralph spoke-his voice now sibilant-the fangs visible in his smile.
“The hand of Ishmael is against his brother.”
With a condescending sneer, Elan retorted, “I have no brother.”
Ralph snorted derisively before muttering a few forbidden words.
Feeling the hair on the back of his neck rise, Elan began to weave air and fire-a blinding flash as a bolt of lightning arced across the sky.
Ralph jumped back as he saw Elan with the bolt of lightning in his grip. Fire and air shielding his hand from shock, he began to weave air and fire up the bolt and then pulled downward, seeming to rip it from the cloud.
Smiling wickedly, Elan began to spin the lightning bolt above his head. Why should he expend his own vitality creating weapons when Ralph would provide them for him? A low roll of thunder spread through the park as the bolt whirred above his head.
With a snap of his wrist and arm, Elan lashed at Ralph with the forty-foot bolt of lightning-cleaving a tree and obliterating a park bench in a clap of thunder and flash of light as the whip cracked.
Having rolled out of the way at the last moment, Ralph began to murmur to himself-that had been too close by half. The boy's power is dangerously close to returning, but why not completely?
Clucking his tongue idly at his aim, Elan began to swing the bolt again to build up speed and the electricity for another lash. His body felt light and his head oddly empty-he was not aware of his undershirt clinging to his sweat-dampened back.
The white-clad man lashed out once more with the bolt, but this time a dome of red light flashed around Ralph. The lightning deflected off it, and Elan felt the weaves controlling it dissolve. The end of the bolt tore across the front of a building, ripping a wide swathe open.
Growling in disgust, Elan gripped the remains of the bolt with both hands, then shifted his weaves and drew his left hand back. The ends bent backwards and a shaft of purplish, crackling lightning formed the arrow.
Ralph’s eyes widened. It shocked him that the other man had been able to hold on so long-he should not be able to utilize his powers at all, and yet… Quickly, he muttered the words to form another shield. If he didn't work something out soon, it was a distinct possibility he might not win this.
Elan released the arrow with another clap of thunder, then drew the bow back and shot another. The first arrow shattered on Ralph’s shield. The second barely missed, flying off to strike a car parked in the distance, which instantly exploded.
Shaking his head, Elan felt the world blur for a moment, his bow dissolved into thin air. He suddenly was aware of how light-headed he felt, how wracked with pains his body was. He had to finish this fight soon.
Ralph flashed a fanged smile.