493 Words | Runner-up for Equinox Battle Challenge held by the Fantasy profile.  

A Thousand Suns

Asha's dance might be her last.

It began with the beat of the drums, steady at first, a staccato rhythm that warmed the chill from her bones. She moved her body, undulating like a snake poised for attack. Her opponent stood several paces away. He was Omusebe and she knew him, from a lifetime past, long before the Winds split the villages and bound them to the death dance.

Shafts of sunlight broke through the clearing. Spring had stirred from her long sleep.

It was Asha's sign.

She vanished from view, reappearing atop a stone marker. Blood dripped from her dagger. From the splotches, tiny seedlings sprung forth. Leaves unfurled. Succulent husks burst open to reveal maize.

Murmurs echoed from the trees. Little prayers of gratitude. Cries of wonder. Her people hadn't seen maize in three seasons.

"Cease your reign," said Asha.

Omusebe wiped the blood from his cheek. "Winter keeps the majitu away."

She'd heard of them, red-eyed monsters who ate the young. They wore many skins, sometimes as crows and vultures, lions with manes blackened by age and hyenas that laughed like madmen.

"The children are safe," he said. "The villagers are happy."

Asha thumped her chest. "What about my people?"

Omusebe stomped his foot, the rattles around his ankle making a shac-shac sound. His shoulders shook with the drumbeat. The wind shrieked and a vortex of snowflakes embraced him.

Winter was pleased.

With inhuman speed, he threw an ice-armored punch at her stomach. Staggering, she coughed up blood. The wind billowed and Omusebe's cloak lifted, exposing the beaded bracelet circling his arm.

A tangle of memories ensnared her: a world of rain and sunlight; the sweetness of mangoes shared under a tree; the prick of a needle as she made the bracelets. His had been pale blue, like his eyes, and hers a deep-orange because he'd said she was like a bonfire on the coldest of nights.

"Come with me, Asha. We'll start again, together."

"We are starving. The granary is empty. My people have lost their livelihood!"

He said nothing. She knew he loved his people as much as she loved hers.

Straightening up, Asha whispered a spell as he pointed his spear skyward. Ice blades suddenly rained on her but a magical barrier sheltered her. She couldn't resist much longer. Winter was stronger.

As her barrier shattered, Omusebe attacked. Blinding light filled the air. A cry pierced the silence. A tumultuous cheer followed...

She opened her eyes. Her locks of hair had become thorny vines. They'd pierced his chest. He collapsed in her arms, blood on his mouth. She lowered him to the ground.

"Asha..." he faltered as he heaved his last breath. "Find another way to protect our villages."

She vanquished her magic and rested her forehead on his. "Forgive me."

Lightning stabbed the clouds. Spring washed Asha's tears with rain. The death dance would continue for a thousand suns unless she stopped it.

And she will.