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Another bolt of green lightning arced toward her from the Kranga Mountains where Flame hid. A quick flick of her supple wrist sent red fire surging out to meet the green energy. With a thundering explosion the two forces met, knocking down unfortunate warriors on both side of the battle below.
Adding salt to this stew of Armageddon, each sorcerer had snared a dragon in hopes of scattering the enemy's soldiers. From the south, Ember trapped a green behemoth with a wingspan over one hundred feet wide. From the north, Flame called forth a creature of obsidian with almost equal size. The dragons fought a vicious battle for dominance in the sky far above the warring cities. Black claws raked across emerald scales raising sparks. They attacked each other without quarter at their masters' commands even while they fought hard for regain control of their wills from the sorcerers.
A vein of fear began to creep through Ember's stony distain. She found herself casting further then she ever had before to find sources of power. All around the plateau she the trees and shrubs were blackened and twisted as if razed by fire; some even disintegrated to fine dark dust under the gusts savaging the mountain. Ember chose to believe that flame was worse off then she was. Her memory of their last meeting at Prosperity's royal ball was an icy clamp squeezing hate like blood from her fiery heart. The smirk he poorly hid as she was shown to a table of lesser nobles pricked like hundreds of needles driven into her body.
Ember knew time was short. If she did not break the stalemate now, she might run out of power sources. She decided to gamble on a desperate strategy. She began shifting some of the energy from the spell imprisoning her dragon to use as a feint at Prosperity's fabled gardens while she built power for a massive strike at Flame.
Across the plain, Flame stood arrogantly marshalling vitriol from the living rock beneath him. He was a tall, lean man with an aristocratic face and dark brooding eyes. His sharp nose rested above an indulgent mouth that formed demeaning smirks more easily than spreading soft butter on hard bread. Even though the ground around him was ankle deep in the ashy remnants of the lush life that had filled the nearby mountainside, he felt no fear. His distain for the village witch Ember knew no bounds. Flame was still angry about her trumping his beautiful displays of light at the last royal ball at Blessing. Her fiery rendition of a miniature Blessing growing larger and brighter than Prosperity galled him still.
Flame's angry marauding was interrupted by a change in the energy flows coming from Nartag Mountains. The witch was faltering! He could sense her dragon gaining more freedom, which meant that now was the time to strike. Nearing the end of his own reserves, Flame chose to gamble with all the power he could summon. His arrogance told him he could regain control over the forces that he released. The wizard held a maelstrom of green lightings on the edge of release waiting for Ember's last clumsy mistake and when red fire leapt from the Nartag Mountains, he struck.


Flame staggered backwards with shocked denial trembling on his slack lips.