| Marc Pelzer | Reynal Juliandy
Tirion was still sitting in Thuli's hut. The shamaness had asked him to stay with her while the warriors repelled the attack of the still unknown enemies. It wasn't even midnight yet when the sounds of battle began. The noises that echoed across the plain were terrible. A mixture of screams, shouts, and the roaring of angry animals. Although the sounds were muffled and only lightly seeping into the hut, it was incredibly oppressive for him. The old woman said nothing. She had sat down and had been staring at the large white candle she had placed on the table for hours. He felt trapped and powerless in this small wooden hut, but he did not dare to offer his help and go against the shamaness's wishes. Then he heard muffled footsteps outside the hut. A shiver ran down his spine. His muscles instantly tensed, and he considered his options in a flammable environment. The door opened, and a blood-covered woman entered. "The northern entrance is lost," she exclaimed. "We have to get them to safety." Thuli seemed unimpressed. "If the God of the forest wants to end my life here, he will do so." "Nonsense!" the woman snapped excitedly. "I have no time, come with me." "I'll stay!" The old woman's voice left no room for objection. With regret in her voice, the warrior said, "Farewell, honorable shamaness. May the eternal vastness welcome you with joy." Then she turned to Tirion. "What about you, stranger?" He thought for a moment, then shook his head. The warrior cursed loudly and disappeared into the night. Tirion had no intention of letting the old woman die here. He was a trained mage of the Fire Guild, and his magic was a trump card he was ready to play. He turned to the old shamaness, looked at her, and then also stepped out. The night air was icy. The sounds of battle had already reached the village. Apparently, the warriors were now being pushed back by the attackers in the village. Tirion adjusted his red robe. As he did during his training, he pulled the hood over his head. Also, to resist the cold of the night, he pulled the similarly red scarf over his face. Then he raised both hands to the sky. He let a fireball shoot up into the air, as he used it as a deterrent against wild animals, only much larger. The fireball hissed and split into beams of fire, spreading in all directions and thinning out. The light of the fire gave him a glimpse of the fight that was raging a few huts away: a single warrior of the tribe faced off against five enemies cloaked in dark robes, each armed with swords. The warrior's arms were covered in cuts, and blood dripped from one hand. With a roar, he swung a large axe, taking away the space for an attack from the sword-wielding shadow figures. The bear did the same with its razor-sharp claws. However, things were looking grim for him. The fur was completely soaked in dark red, and a large wound on his back exposed a flap of flesh. They won't hold out much longer, Tirion thought. He ran two houses down until he was only a few meters away from the fight. While ranged combat was safer against multiple opponents, it consumed too much magical power, as control over fire exponentially increased with distance. He opted for a simple but very effective spell. He stretched out an arm and aimed it at the jumping black silhouettes. Then he gathered his magical potential deep in his belly and let it shoot suddenly through his side into his hand, where he formed it into a fireball. The first fist-sized fireball shot out of his hand and caught the nearest attacker with full force. The force of the impact knocked him off his feet and he burst into flames screaming. The fight paused for a moment, and everyone looked around. Just then the next fireball shot towards them but missed the dodging swordsman and hit the street with a crash. The element of surprise was thus blown. But the animal man and his companion had understood immediately, and they plunged into battle with renewed courage.
But the bear was now facing six opponents and they had used the moment to encircle him. Ignoring the fireballs the mage shot in their direction, they mercilessly cut the bear down. The swords flashed and shot at the animal like needles from all directions. The bear raged and reared up on two legs, lashing out at its adversaries, but to no avail. The movements slowed down, but the blows continued until the bear was on the ground. The same was not allowed to happen to the fighter. Tirion had to see to that. But the attackers above the bear held still for a moment, raised their swords and bawled something. It didn't sound like a cry of victory but was as chant-like as a prayer. The decision to do so, however, was their undoing, for Tirion formed a circle of fire around them with both hands. The high flames allowed no escape. Then he tightened the circle and finally, with a scream of effort, let the inside burst into a sea of flames. The power flowed through his body and intoxicated him, although he was shocked by his own cruelty. Both the attackers and the already dead bear stood in bright, hot fire. Desperately, they tried to roll on the ground, moaning and screaming, to escape the flames. The flames knew no mercy and ate effortlessly through cloth, leather and skin. Then Tirion sought the fight of the two remaining fighters. They had moved between two huts where the tribal fighter, pressed against the wall, had no good chance to defend himself against the sword's blows. Only with difficulty did he slowly let the axe rise and fall to parry. Then the mage saw the axe slip from his hand after a heavy blow. Tirion shot off. In the movement he concentrated on the attacker's sword and let as much heat flow into it as was somehow possible. This was also felt by the bearer, who dropped the rapidly glowing hilt in surprise. The animal man reared up with his last strength and gave him a fist blow with his not yet injured hand. Already the mage had arrived and kicked the sword out of reach. "We need him alive!" he shouted at the warrior who was reaching for a knife stuck in his belt. The latter growled something unintelligible. And even if Tirion had understood, the words would have been so drenched in hatred that he would have had to ignore it.
They tied up their prisoner and pulled the black hood off his face. He was a middle-aged man with a scarred face. He was silent and did not move. The mage knelt by him and let cold fire blaze in his eyes. "We have some questions. And you will answer them for us." The silence broke and the prisoner let out a cry of fear.
But the bear was now facing six opponents and they had used the moment to encircle him. Ignoring the fireballs the mage shot in their direction, they mercilessly cut the bear down. The swords flashed and shot at the animal like needles from all directions. The bear raged and reared up on two legs, lashing out at its adversaries, but to no avail. The movements slowed down, but the blows continued until the bear was on the ground. The same was not allowed to happen to the fighter. Tirion had to see to that. But the attackers above the bear held still for a moment, raised their swords and bawled something. It didn't sound like a cry of victory but was as chant-like as a prayer. The decision to do so, however, was their undoing, for Tirion formed a circle of fire around them with both hands. The high flames allowed no escape. Then he tightened the circle and finally, with a scream of effort, let the inside burst into a sea of flames. The power flowed through his body and intoxicated him, although he was shocked by his own cruelty. Both the attackers and the already dead bear stood in bright, hot fire. Desperately, they tried to roll on the ground, moaning and screaming, to escape the flames. The flames knew no mercy and ate effortlessly through cloth, leather and skin. Then Tirion sought the fight of the two remaining fighters. They had moved between two huts where the tribal fighter, pressed against the wall, had no good chance to defend himself against the sword's blows. Only with difficulty did he slowly let the axe rise and fall to parry. Then the mage saw the axe slip from his hand after a heavy blow. Tirion shot off. In the movement he concentrated on the attacker's sword and let as much heat flow into it as was somehow possible. This was also felt by the bearer, who dropped the rapidly glowing hilt in surprise. The animal man reared up with his last strength and gave him a fist blow with his not yet injured hand. Already the mage had arrived and kicked the sword out of reach. "We need him alive!" he shouted at the warrior who was reaching for a knife stuck in his belt. The latter growled something unintelligible. And even if Tirion had understood, the words would have been so drenched in hatred that he would have had to ignore it.
They tied up their prisoner and pulled the black hood off his face. He was a middle-aged man with a scarred face. He was silent and did not move. The mage knelt by him and let cold fire blaze in his eyes. "We have some questions. And you will answer them for us." The silence broke and the prisoner let out a cry of fear.