The Links of Magic (Needs Revising)

The Links of Magic

Chapter One

Antares, a young fighter, stands alone on a bloody battlefield, his comrades coming leisurely from behind. His eyes are fixed on a motionless, cloaked figure lying on the ground. A perfect, silver blade pierces its heart, allowing dark blood to flow from the wound. Only moments ago it had screeched with rage, its blood stained claws ripping at his foe. Its once crimson eyes had died down, though you could still see the white, saber like fangs despite the darkness that veiled its face. The man could not turn his gaze; it was all over… yet he remembers so clearly the brutal battle. The gory images seemed so real, so current as he searched through them. Flashing before him all the events that had occurred throughout this dreadful battle. What had he done wrong? He wondered painfully, almost breaking down in tears, for all around him were fallen friends and leaders. Comrades and loyal fighters were skewed around, burns covering some of the bodies, and others had claw or fang marks. It was a victory but it seemed a loss.

It had started with the invasion; a cloaked beast had attacked without notice or honor. It leapt powerful into the village center, where many fighters stood ready. The council were first, each of the six calling magic to their aid. Two were battle mages, another two healers, and the last two simple mages. Each class of mage was given their own special magic strengths and weaknesses. Though one man stood in front of the six, making six now seven. He the leader of the village, his magic abilities balanced. It is wise for the leaders and council members in a village to give orders and stay out of the fray. Yet this was not the case. They had fought this battle, as they had fought every battle before this. Each had sworn to protect the village and never ally with an enemy or bring any sort of harm to the village or its inhabitants. This they would always keep true to, their blood oath.

The cloaked beast was more a demon then human, in fact it was just a pet to those who sent it to attack. Its fangs were of a saber’s, long and undoubtedly sharp. The fighters quivered at its large, cat like claws, retractable and perfect for slicing into human flesh. This creature was a mindless pyromancer, using fire to roast the village’s defense. It wasn’t that simple though, flames would not intimidate the council, or even the petty fighters. Yet many did die within only minutes of the attack, but many more survived and continued to fight. However their attacks were useless, the creature was too fast and had strong defenses against human weapons. It was the leader who wounded it. He had taken up his silver blade, and allowed his magic to literally pour into it creating a water-based attack. The once silver sword was now pale blue, water washing over it yet not dripping to the dry soil.

With the last bit of energy he had, he threw the blade with all his might. The hit was not perfect, though he managed to crack the beast’s ribs. It was the water that had pierced the beast, allowing the blade to enter and the water to flow through its fiery blood. Growling in anger the beast ripped the blade from his chest, throwing it at the last remaining council member, the leader. The great and mighty leader fell, all his strength gone, and his deed done. He slowly encountered death, knowing he had done all he could for his village and people. The demon had been wounded, his immortality diminishing and courage returning to many of the remaining fighters.

There had been many who grieved over the deaths of the council, their leaders and their friends. Though such a powerful anger flourished within one particular fighter, it was greater then any rage. He bared the name of Antares, a bright star of the north. His berserker blood flowed strong, something he was unfamiliar with. Taking in a hard breath Antares raised his own silver and perfect blade. He pushed through the crowd of stunned fighters. As he advanced toward his foe he summoned a bright and godly sort of magic. It was a spell based on light and created of light. Though it was night and dark, the stars dim. In Antares’ left hand glowed an orb of light, so small at first, yet it grew in size and brightness as he made his way toward the demon. With his right hand, the hand that bared the silver blade, he allowed a magical water to flow. It rushed into the sword and spun around the blade, swirling like a cyclone. The crowd separated and became silent, giving Antares a clear path to the demon.

Mightily Antares rushed at the demon, his left hand raised. Leaping he let the orb of light go. His heart beat rapidly as the orb covered the few inches from its user to the demon in only a mere second. Shards of light embedded themselves into the dark beast’s eyes, temporarily blinding him. Even before he landed firmly on the ground he had thrust his blade into the heart of the demon. The swirling water followed and made its mark. “Bind…” he whispered as he released the handle of his sword for it had grown hot. Screeching the demon attempted to swipe at the man, yet he was suddenly so weak and he could not step forward to reach the target. It fell, death now consuming him. Bluish green water washed over the demon, soaking his black attire. Steam rose from the heated corpse, clouding the air. Finally the battle of many against one was finished, yet it was just beginning of something more.
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I find that what is wrong with this part of the story, is that it has little emotion within it. Readers have only a few paragraphs to find sorrow within this. However Antares isn't the main character. This part of the story was like a prologue...