THE FOUR MASTERS
"Your attempt to stop one of my skills amuses me," taunted the powerful sorcerer as he thrust another ray of darkness at his opponent, who just managed to get her magical shield up in time.
Regardless of what the sorcerer said or the misplaced grin he wore, he was more than amused; he respected the determination in this sorceress before him. If he didn't sneak up behind her expecting a quick kill, he admitted it to himself that he wouldn't be at the advantage now but that he would be at equal footing. It mattered not. She was just defending herself now and to let down her guard for an attack would give her nemesis an opening she couldn't afford.
"I will cease your advances," the sorceress stated.
"Why? I have no interest in your land…" the sorcerer was cut short by the unexpected attack of a scream emanating across the room.
The wail shattered every window and glass inside the throne room into millions of shards but the sorcerer silenced the area around himself for ten feet. The second the sorceress finished her spell, her enemy closed the distance; he was exiting his barrier and out shot a kick to the side which knocked his opponent against the far wall. Not losing momentum, the sorcerer opened his palm out and expelled a dark wave of wind against his enemy which caused her to slam against the wall.
He knew the real reason why she continued to fight against him. She was forcing him to deplete his magic so he wouldn't have enough power to break the seal. Silently saluting his adversary—confident that she was defeated—he began going to work at the altar calling forth as much magic as he could. Incantation after incantation rolled off his tongue gradually and in sync with his complicated hand signs. The process of tearing apart such a barrier took both patience and power and there were no room for error. He knew this and so did the sorceress.
Standing was a struggle for the weakened sorceress and she knew she didn't have enough energy to stop him; but she felt that she could still be a nuisance. Quietly, but limping, she began to sneak up toward the distracted sorcerer; she wrapped her fingers together to form a ribbon shape. Right behind him, silently she stood and waited for the right moment.
"Gana tel vastaque til pina tol zenta olde," the chant paused and the sorcerer glared back as the last word was spoken was not his.
"Hyrulenotqua!" the sorceress cried, hitting the altar with a beam of light.
As he turned back the sorcerer grinned as the barrier shattered and a gentle wind began to blow up from the altar. A sound from behind drew him back around to see an exhausted sorceress, kneeling on the floor, panting. Only out of respect held the sorcerer's hand from slaying her then and there. Maybe he would return to take her for a wife or at least a vessel for his seed. What greatness a child could come from such a union! A dark grin came to the sorcerer's face, which made the sorceress shiver as if she knew what he was just thinking.
Bowing swiftly, the sorcerer spun on his heels and glided towards the gate to the other world. Behind him, the sorceress cursed herself for not being strong enough to stop him. Slowly she fell, deep into the comforting darkness.