"Battle Against Prodigal" by Joshua Price

The young man, accompanied by several volunteer soldiers from the local militia, rushed down the corridor. His gold cape, attached to the black uniform he wore, fluttered behind him as he ran, revealing the bottom portion of his sword sheath on his back, which was usually obscured by the fabric. His fair skinned, lithe, yet well built form moved down the halls without care to what may lay ahead as long as it wasn't visible. The mercenary, Edge Gifon, who had also joined in on this mission had been captured some time earlier, and no doubt that twisted sorcerer Prodigal was getting ready to try out some of his dark arts on the man, assuming he hadn't already started. After all, one could only begin to imagine the cruel intentions of a demon summoner.

The hall expanded and the unnoticed, at least in Isaac's eyes, decorations grew more elaborate, indicating that the huge double doors ahead should be leading to the throne room of the ancient castle, where no doubt that maniac of a magic user lurked. However, there was still yet another obstacle to go through, which became apparent as it appeared before them dressed in white and gray robes, complete with a hat, that would have been fitting for a high ranking religious official. Isaac came to a stop, finding the failure to notice the drawn sword to be quite a challenge. In response, Isaac, as well as the volunteers with him, drew their own weapons.

"If you can provide me with what I desire," the man said mockingly, "I shall let you pass."

"What, do you want money or something?" Isaac asked.

"No, money is of no object to me," he replied. He paused for a moment and then smiled insidiously, "What I desire is your lives!"

Isaac couldn't help but think that brief exchange was rather pointless, but he didn't get very far on the subject as he had to dodge the attack of the man , who had decided rushing was the best option for striking. Isaac made a short jump to the right, but quickly realized as he did that would make countering with his own sword difficult, being right-handed. Therefore, he did the next best thing and delivered a kick with his left foot, striking the man squarely in the chest. The man got knocked up a foot in the air and then hung there. He looked up at Isaac with that same insidious grin.

"I admire your courage little swordsman," he said mockingly. Then he simply vanished, only for him to reappear in front of Isaac...and behind him...and to his left...and just about every other direction as well. The militia were clearly taken aback by this all, but Isaac had dealt with magic before, so this wasn't quite so startling to him.

"Hey, I'm over here!" the mystical man said, his voice alternating source bodies with every word.

"So, trying to confuse me with a few cheap tricks huh?" Isaac replied confidently, "Well I'll just have to break your little spell before I take you down!"

Without any more delay, the two opposing sides clashed. While technically it was ten on one, literally the sides were even. It quickly became apparent that not only were the mirror images capable of acting on their own, they also possessed the ability to harm others, their swords as sharp as any other. However, despite this, they showed a severe lack of skill in combat and didn't have much power, and it quickly showed when the images had all been reduced to puffs of smoke.

"Most impressive!" the mystic mocked, appearing in the room alone, "Let us fight then!"

While everyone made an attempt to attack the man, Isaac was the only one who really got the chance to do anything, it happened so quick. The two clashed blades, but Isaac quickly displayed his superior abilities as the few clashes drove the mystic back. After a moment, an opening was forced and Isaac took the chance and struck. However, his thrust met open air.

"Oh...that was close!" the man's disembodied voice proclaimed.

"What? He's disappeared!" a soldier exclaimed bewilderedly.

"Eee hee hee hee, here I am!" came the mocking tone from behind as the images returned, catching two of the militia men unaware, leading to their untimely demise.

"Come back out and play, your friends are boring," Isaac taunted in response as the two groups clashed once more.

This time around the images were much stronger, but there was also a disparity in the skill from image to image. Isaac noticed one seemed to be superior to the others and assumed that it may be a leader of sorts. A quick idea went through his head and he acted on it. He forced a disengagement with his current adversary and took advantage of his natural speed and agility to move towards the 'leader'. Rather than striking it in the back, which he was in prime position to do, he ran by it, using his blade to cleave through its neck. It, along with the others, vanished in more puffs of smoke.

"Now behold the true power of my sorcery!" an angry mystic said as he appeared with yet more body doubles.

"They still look pretty fake to me," Isaac replied, not skipping a chance to taunt his opponent.

The sides engaged each other once more, the images now an even match for the soldiers. However, the skill gulf between Isaac and the mystical man remained the same, though the latter was a bit to frustrated to notice it. Once more Isaac forced the man into a total defense, leading up to an opening once more. Again, Isaac took it and struck. The mystical saw it in time and attempted to avoid it, but still was force to take a non-critical stab in his side.

"I guess playtime is over!" the mystic exclaimed furiously and his body began to glow purple.

"So you haver true-er power?" Isaac asked with mock skepticism. If anything, this guy was a delusional nut-case.

The images the soldiers were fighting vanished, only to be replaced by more of them, except this time they were hued the same purple that the mystic had glowed. The militia, now getting used to the trick, did not hesitate to strike. But their attacks met nothing, only empty air. Anything they tried did not work. Yet anything these phantom images tried did work. They could strike without encountering any defenses. Their blades ignored weapons positioned to parry, shields raised to block, and armor worn to protect, going straight for an undeniable kill.

Isaac Tigerheart paid no heed and went once more straight for the mystic, who was now considerably weary. Even as the phantoms closed, Isaac kept up his relentless attack, this time intent on making an opening for a kill. Just as the ghosts were about to strike, Isaac got through the man's guard and made a clean stab straight through his skull. Just as life left the mystic, so it appeared to do the same for the ghostly figured, who collapsed and dissipated.

Without taking a moment to clean his weapon, Isaac stepped over the body and entered the throne room. He was immediately surprised by two things. First how tiny the throne room was. The original owner of the castle must have preferred modest quarters. The second thing was alive and chained to the far wall. Black hair, tanned skin, blueish green armor made from something other than metal, it was nobody else but Edge. Isaac started forward towards him, but was cut-off as a sheet of ice rose up a foot in front of him. He turned and saw Prodigal, dressed very similarly to the mystic before, minus the ridiculous hat, and armed with a gnarled staff, standing just outside of his initial range of vision.

"I am quite impressed you have made it this far 'knight'," Prodigal said calmly, though putting a bit of a mocking tone on the last word.

"I'm surprised you haven't killed him in some crazy experiments," Isaac replied, "I've heard you don't keep prisoners."

"Not usually, but this one owes loyalty to nobody. A mind with no dues owed to anyone, I can bend it to serve my will."

Isaac couldn't help but feel a bit disturbed at Prodigal saying that as if it was an every day event to magically enslave someone, "You know, you are starting to freak me out."

"I would do the same to you," Prodigal continued, ignoring the comment, "but you're loyalty to the Phoenix Dominion is far too strong. Such an attempt would fail, so I am forced to treat you in a different matter."

"So, you're going to have to kill me right?" Isaac asked flatly.

"However did you manage come to that conclusion?" Prodigal replied, not bothering to mock surprise.

Isaac noticed Edge regaining consciousness nearby, but didn't have time to give the event more than that as Prodigal raised his arm, palm facing Isaac, in one of many classic spell casting poses. Waves of violet energy were expelled from the palm and flew towards Isaac. However, nothing seemed to happen at all, much to both of their surprise.

"How did you resist that? You should have become a newt!" Prodigal stated after a moment.

"When you've been trained by an emperor, you have to be mentally strong. All those little transformation curses are really easy to resist if you just concentrate hard enough. I would have though you would have known that, of all people."

Prodigal gave a brief blank glance before regaining his composure. He began another spell, this time creating a small circular band of blue energy to form at his feet and travel up his body, becoming more intense the farther it got. Isaac got ready to move as it neared his head, ready to avoid anything. Once it topped off Prodigal's body, a concentrated beam of pure energy shot forth from Prodigal's palm, barely missing Isaac who got out of the way just in time. Another shot was fired and struck a wall rather than a young swordsman. Prodigal kept this up with Isaac moving closer with each successive dodge.

However, unlike normal circumstances, this turned out to be a bad move. Isaac miscalculated the time he needed and failed to dodge, being as close as he was. He was struck squarely in the chest and was projected backwards several feet, searing hot pain shooting through his body. However, Isaac quickly got to his feet and managed to evade a shot while he was at it. Once upright again, he decided to retort with magic of his own. His blade soon began to emit cold, as evident by the chilly mist forming around it. He drew it back into a swinging position and slashed at the air, sending multiple shards of ice towards the arch-sorcerer. Prodigal stepped aside and projected another beam, which Isaac was unable to dodge, too preoccupied with his own spell. Neither of them noticed that the ice had hit the chains on Edge's arms, freeing him.

Isaac tried to get to his feet, but the wear from the previous fights as well as the pain from the spells caused him to fall to his knees. He looked up to see Prodigal before him, palm raised, an evil grin on his face. It would seem that not only had he failed his mission, he was going to die. Isaac closed his eyes and awaited what he knew was coming. But instead he a grunt and a another spell being casted. He opened his eyes to see Edge bringing his wave blade down onto Prodigal's head, but being held by a small barrier. Isaac, calling upon what reserve strength he had, stood up and quickly thrusted his blade through Prodigal's heart, via through the back.

"My destiny..." Prodigal muttered in disbelief as he fell to the ground, "has not...yet..."

There was brief silence as the two warriors stared at each other, both exhausted. But before either could speak, a loud wailing filled the air, shattering the piece. Spirits began to fly through the air, passing through the walls, heading for some unknown destination. The demons were being forced back into the abyss they came from. After several minutes, peace took over once more.

"Edge, you saved me there," Isaac finally said, "Thanks."

The mercenary shook his head, "No need to. You saved me from being a mindless minion. That'd be far worse than death. I owe you on that."

"If you say so," Isaac replied shrugging, "Come on, lets go home. I'm sure I'm going to need a few days rest."

As the pair walked out, Edge stopped and turned back to the magic weaver's body. He then took his weapon and brought it down over Prodigal's neck. He took it and stuffed it in a bag. There was more than one bounty on the head, and he would most certainly want to claim them.