Taking Back The Crown – Part Fourteen

For months there were arguments about how they should oust the dark magicians from Helena.

 “We should approach from the North and slowly clear everyone out.” Linden advised. “There aren’t enough of us to split into groups. If all the Rutilus come in from the Back Desert, they’ll be able to pick us off, one by one.”

 “No, we need to take them by surprise. If we take Magdalene, the leader, before she can call them in, they might just leave us.”

 “Your highness, I appreciate you are concerned, but I have experience in these matters. You must trust me.”

 Sonya walked out of the room, frustrated.

While the plans were discussed, Sonya spent time teaching new recruits everything she knew about magical combat. She was even taught new things by those who had studied different methods under trainers from other lands. In the end, Sonya had her own style that she was comfortable with, but she never stopped feeling guilty about her incomplete training with Seta.

 She made friends with Orika and, six months after moving to the camp, confided in her about the Training Ground and the circumstances in which she left. She neglected to mention her feelings for Seta, but Orika understood and comforted her.

 “Why not go back and explain properly? He might want to fight with us.” Orika suggested.

 “For a group of magicians who train in combat, they’re very anti-conflict. They don’t get involved with other people’s wars.”

 “Maybe in general, but he might not be.” she pointed out. Sonya was doubtful. It was best to leave Seta and those painful memories behind.


Alastair’s Photo Fiction – No More Running For You

This prompt is from Alastair’s Photo Fiction Blog


I’d kill for some bacon. Or a nice glass of white wine. Anything really, I haven’t eaten in years. I wouldn’t even turn my nose up at a peanut butter sandwich, and I hate peanut butter.

I used to run marathons, but that was a long time ago. I remember how it felt the day after I’d finished one. My limbs were so stiff, one hundred times more painful than after I’d completed a normal run. Now I feel even worse than that, all over my body. Or what that witch has made of my body, anyway.

 I used to be so proud of my looks. I was out running along the fields, and an ugly chick winked, smiled flirtatiously and beckoned me to come over. I sneered and ignored her, I could do better.

Suddenly, I found myself literally rooted to the spot as she cackled and walked away…