Flash Fiction Friday (36)

Dottie over at Tink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take.

I have to thank Blodeuedd at Book Girl of Mur-y-Castell for introducing me to this fun meme. I don't know if I'll be able to keep up with every week, but I'll give it a try from time to time.

The Image This Week:

(artist: Cris Ortega)

Story by:  Melissa

Cheyenne's over energetic heart fueled the magic crackling in her hand.  She hadn't seen them yet, but she could feel them, in her head.  They were there, buying time, herding Cheyenne and Liam to where they wanted them like wolves howling and scaring their prey, before showing themselves and attacking.

Cheyenne stood back to back with Liam.  He faces the water waiting for the creature to emerge as they expected.  They had seen it swimming among the visible parts of the submerged ancient city, Cyntha.

Cheyenne held her breath, her heart speeding faster, and her sun magic flared brighter with the ghosts of the ancient city shimmering to life before her.  Cheyenne felt Liam breathing against her ear; he was looking over her shoulder.  He heard his sword click with the first pull of the blade from its seat in the sheath, but didn't sing its song of release.  He saw them too.  She was trained to dispose of apparitions like these shifting from the air before her.  Her magic will work on them, but not his sword.  She worried they might be to old and powerful, primordial as the city Cyntha ~ the first home of the wizardry and sorceress', and to many for her to take.  But she would give her whole heart to the task.

"Watch the water."  Cheyenne hissed.

Liam turned back to his duty.  The ripples in the water where nearing, but taking it's time, maybe waiting for the ghosts to wear them down or distract them, he didn't know.  Liam's sword sang its excited song of release and want, reminding Cheyenne of the death that follows it's excitement to bring a crimson river.  Cheyenne stiffened waiting for the blow to come; she couldn't spare a moment to turn to see how close the creature was.

The ghosts before Cheyenne took their first step.  Cheyenne released her crackling ball of magic, hitting the first one, knocking it back.  He kept walking, as if Cheyenne hadn't even touched it.  Cheyenne reached deeper, pulling and willing more magic to her hands.  She then saw the suns rays creep around her as the ball of energy crested the horizon, her ball of energy, where she pulls her magic from.  Cheyenne lifted her head, set her chin with determination and pulled from her new source of energy, blasting the ghosts of her ancient ancestors.

The ghosts heeded, and then backed to a distance, bowing their heads.  Cheyenne wheezing, turning to Liam, who was gone.