A Wee Tale (Because "Short Story" is too Conventional)

Well, I do apologize for the lack of posts. I pretty much failed that challenge. First came finals, then I was out of town for 3 weeks...ah, excuses, excuses. I hope to write a good deal this summer, so some of that may make its way here. Here's a short story to start things off. Enjoy!

Worth Fighting For

Asher’s ice-blue eyes locked with the Sorcerer’s dark, bloodshot ones. In his hands flashed two razor-sharp daggers. His long blond hair fell to his shoulders, over which hung a brown, ankle-length cloak.

            The Sorcerer looked quite different. His face was thin, the skin drawn tight over his cheekbones. Dark, hollow rings surrounded his eyes, and several strands of his glossy black hair partly covered them. A black, hooded cloak fell from his forehead to swish at his ankles with a crimson robe. He carried no weapon.

            “Why, Dark One?” Asher said. “Why do you want to destroy humankind?”

            The Sorcerer laughed. “Ha! Why? I could ask you why you are so eager to protect them. The race of man has grown increasingly wicked, and is now merely a disgusting blemish to be wiped from the beautiful slate of the world. These people are a ragged mob of thieves, murderers, drunkards and prostitutes—nothing more.”

            Asher’s mind flashed back to his walk through the marketplace that day: A baker argued over the price of bread witha potential customer. The local tavern was filled to overflowing with men too lazy to get a job and with loose women. In the town square, a band of soldiers placed a noose around a cutthroat’s neck, then laughed when they kicked the stool away. Were they any better than the one who was swinging in the breeze?

            Down an alley, a group of silhouettes mugged a scrawny pauper, taking the few alms he had collected and running back into the bar. The Sorcerer was right, Asher thought. There is nothing but evil in mankind’s heart.

            But then Asher remembered the young woman who had rushed to the bloody beggar and bandaged his wounds. He remembered the soldier who grimaced while his comrades mocked; the man outside the tavern who told the alcoholics about the King of Light; and Asher remembered the group of children playing and laughing in the shop-lined streets.

            His mind snapped back to the present. “No,” he replied. “You’re wrong. As a wise person once said, ‘There’s still good in this world, and it’s worth fighting for.’”

            The Sorcerer’s face darkened. His lip curled and his eyes flashed. “Fool! You know nothing of the world. I will extinguish the Light and all of mankind, starting with you!”

            A ball of fire flew from the Sorcerer’s hands. Throwing himself to the ground just in time, Asher avoided the blast’s main force, but it easily burned through his cloak. He leapt to his feet and lunged at the Sorcerer’s chest, daggers raised. Before Asher could reach him, a gust of wind knocked him to the floor.

            The Sorcerer looked at him scornfully. “Bah! Pathetic. A fool and a weakling. Boy, with the powers I have been given, I am stronger than you could ever dream of being!” he shouted, punctuating his words with a bolt of lightning shot from his fingertips.

             This time, Asher was too slow to avoid the attack. Pain lanced through his body and took his breath away. He rolled on the floor, struggling to rise. “O King,” he prayed, “give me strength!”

            Almost immediately, another bolt shot through him. Rather than weaken him further, however, this one restored his strength. Glowing with new power, Asher slowly rose and stalked towards his opponent.

            “No, Dark One,” he challenged softly. “Once more, it is you who is wrong. I am the one who has been given the greater power, a power from the Light of Man, the Morning Star.”

            The Sorcerer looked upon his face and quailed. Trying to stop Asher’s fearsome march, he began showering him with fire and lightning. His efforts were in vain; before the missiles could reach their target, they disintegrated into tiny particles of light.

            Now only ten feet away, Asher lifted his hands towards the Sorcerer. Light streamed from his fingertips and gathered into a huge sphere in front of him. Screaming in pain, the Sorcerer covered his eyes and ran for the tower’s window.

            He never made it. Asher released the sphere and it flew at the red-robed figure, completely enveloping him. More screams pierced the air, then disappeared with the ball of light. The Sorcerer was gone.

            Asher bent double and gasped for air. He did it! He had accomplished his task.Thanking the King, he crossed over to a small pedestal on the other side of the room and placed a cross-shaped crystal on it. The crystal began to emit a soft light, which grew and grew until it enveloped the entire tower and shot intothe heavens. Turning his face to the sky, Asher grinned. Then he, too, disappeared.