Wizardry! Steel! Damn!
A story cut bizarrely short. Sword & Sorcery flash fiction.
“Die, evil wizard!” the barbarian roared in the swirling gloom of the chamber. He swung his mighty sword above his head.
The blade got stuck in the ancient, black wood of the ceiling.
“What!” the barbarian grunted, trying to yank the steel free. “Damn!”
“What?” the evil wizard said, no longer cowering. “You lose! That’s what.”
With that, he rose to his feet, and snapped some of his gnarly fingers.
Tiny, intricate crystal bells tinkled on his silver rings — and the barbarian’s head disappeared in a puff of sickly green and pink smoke that smelled of bone and blood and brains.
The barbarian didn’t even have time to feel properly surprised in the last second of his life.
That was left for the first second of his un-life.
“What!” he said, the word a frozen whisper coming from the white shadow of his missing head above his severed neck.
“Damn!” the evil wizard screamed, scrambling to get back and away from him. “He’s become a ghost! What are the chances?! A ghost!”
“Well,” the sword in the barbarian’s cold grasp said.
“What!” the dead barbarian and the evil wizard said, eyes wide.
“I’m cursed,” the sword said, its voice the black ringing of hungry steel. “I bring bad luck. When you least expect it. I’ve waited thirteen years, thirteen months and thirteen days for this.”
“That’s fourteen years and a month and thirteen days,” the evil wizard said, puzzled.
“Whatever,” the sword laughed. “The point is, the time has come!”
“Damn!” the dead barbarian mumbled. He tried to let go of the sword, but couldn’t.
“And now you’re cursed too,” the sword added, its words soft like a slow stab in the back.
“What?!” the evil wizard gasped.
“Nothing serious, though,” the sword said. “We can still have fun. Even more than before, now that you both know about me. Just imagine the tales they’ll tell about us!”
With that, it let go of the ceiling.
“Wizardry! Steel!” it said. “Damn! I love it already!”
