A Moonlit Knight.
From the orange light of the setting sun a man walks along a beach with a heart filled with greed.
His hand rests in the pockets of his deep blue robes. The glint of the gold stitching along the book he wears around his waist signaled the final rays of the now gone sun.
A hue of power shrouded the dark warrior. It was palpable in the air around him, even from a distance his energy would intimidate. Yet, he is walking along a beach, far from the walls of any sovereignty, far from the halls of great men and vast learning; he walks along a beach on solitude.
The farther along the beach he walked, the more indents in the wet sand he left. He walked along the cusp of the far-reaching ocean; the small waves lapped at the bare toes that wriggled in the icy waters.
He stopped as the moon began to brighten. His hands splayed as anticipation grew around him. From nowhere, or so it seemed, a puff of black smoke marred the beaches clear view, and a kneeling man become visible.
“I have what you asked for,” the man said as he placed his hands in the sand to steady himself, no hint of a greeting on his lips.
The robed figure nodded and placed his own hand out to receive the parcel that was tied to the kneeling man’s back. Instead of waiting for it to be offered, he tore it from its resting place and knocked the teleporter from his knees.
He looked within the bag and seemed pleased with what was inside. It was so small that it looked to contain barely anything but the robed man’s grin confirmed that there was something within the jute sack he held in his powerful hands.
Like thunder a noise rumbled through the night skies silence. A blast of yellow energy crackled from the standing man’s fingertips and only narrowly missed striking the courier. Had he not rolled into the ocean then he would surely have been struck.
“What are you-“ he was cut off as another mustard bolt was fired in his direction. This time he was more capable and raised his own hand in defence. A glorious bubble seemed to have been erected around him as the onslaught dissipated around it.
“Please, please stop this! I wont tell,” he pleaded to no avail.
The man who had appeared from nowhere was now sodden with the salt water he was crouching in. The red of his own robes was now maroon and a deep scar along his neck was now visible in the shine of starlight that had begun to truly illuminate the beach.
The barefoot man began walking backwards from the sea’s touch, deeper inland onto the still dry sand. He seemed taken slightly off guard as a flurry of silver sparks struck his chest and knocked him onto his back.
“Don’t make me fight you,” the, now, attacker warned, “I have no problem with your kind. I’ve done my task; it’s time for me to leave.”
As he looked on the verge of vanishing out of the situation he had not created, a violet beam of light was fired from the hands of the man with the book around his waist. He leapt onto his feet and fired a second one from his left hand. The two streams of violet magic bore into the bubble of protection that the teleporter had created around himself. It was clear from the consternation on his face that it was taking all he had to keep himself safe from the murderous attacks of the powerful sorcerer. There was no concentraion left to spirit him away.
With a powerful pulse outwards, the bubble shattered at the moment he pushed it from him. The violet rays splintered and struck several points along the sand. The grains exploded up from their resting place and left large holes along the beach.
“To the death?” was all the teleporter could say.
In answer to his question, a trunk of magnificent light blue witchcraft sprouted from the palms of the silent sorcerer; joining a few feet away from him and carving a path through the salt air directly at the courier’s chest. It was met, only feet away from the red robes, with a column of titian coloured flames.
No matter how hard he pushed or how focused he became, his ability simply wasn’t enough to overcome the strength of the deep blue warrior. With a finality reserved only for those who are certain of death; a peace descended on his face as the battle paused for just a moment.
“I did nothing wrong,” he whispered, barely audible over the rush of the waves around them.
“I know,” the deep voice of the Moonlit Knight conceded.
In a second, and while the defeated man’s mouth opened to speak once again, a flash of brilliant shining light consumed him – committing his remains to the water.
The victor turned and grasped the bag from the sandy groove it was in. Not even bothering to reach in and check what he had received once more, he slung the bag on his back while walking away, a silhouette against the horizon.
He was a robed warrior against the seaside sky. The sun was gone but his heart was not; for tonight he would forge his destiny.
Tonight he would establish his dominance.