For the last post of 2013 (well probably the last). I have a short story I wrote this year. Critiques are always appreciated. If you are wondering, the illustrations are photos of a sketch I did....edited photos.  

Shimaron: Defeat Beneath the Moon

Firon beat his great bat like wings, smoke curled up from his nostrils. Dropping down upon the unexpecting town, his eyes flamed like the sun. It had been said, in many a legend that no one could destroy him, Firon the lord of the ancient beats, until the Lianel was found and Shimaron came. Who or what Shimaron was, had been little more than the stuff of legends, until now. Now I had Shimaron, or more, he had me; the White Horse, if horse you could call him. In those legends tales were told of how one day The Moon, Shimaron will battle with Firon, The Sun. 

We watched the destruction of the town beginning from atop a hill. Shimaron moved restlessly glimmering in the evening light, and I sat astride him arrayed in gleaming white. On the horizon the sun glowed crimson, making Firon’s scales glitter like rubies as he dived down breathing out fire and destruction. Leaning down I whispered,

“Amanra elama eron Firon” 

Shimaron’s legs flashed out and we were away. His dark hair and mine intertwined as we plunged down towards the beast. 

“Manata Shimaron manata,  elafie a’elafie. Go Shining One go, fly fly.”

Firon turned away from the now smouldering town and faced us. Flames poured out of his gaping jaws and came rushing towards us. Light flashed from Shimaron’s hooves, I felt the Lianel grow hot where it hung around my neck. Unsheathing my sword I called out,

“Shimaron comel e’Lianel e’Linian.” The Shining One comes with The Silver Stone and the Silver Maiden.

Firon swept his spiked tail towards us and then roaring, spat fire, turned and came at us again. Shimaron leaped into the air, I grasped the moon stone that hung from a silver chain around my neck. Holding it up the Lianel blazed, shining radiance on the surrounding countryside. Firon backed away then came at us with renewed fury. Flames poured forth, smoke filled the air until our light could hardly be seen. The Dragon’s claws appeared hazily through the smoke, slashing at us. I stabbed back, but Firon kept just out of reach of my sword. Charging, twisting, plunging like a red sun ray and white moon beam, both could not be there at the same time, one would fail. Fury and death against love and life, claws and teeth against hooves and sword, darkness against light. 

The flaming ball of the sun dipped below the horizon, but the two small suns in Firon’s eyes did not falter. We backed off out of the smoke. Shimaron had a deep gash in his side where one of Firon’s claws had found its mark. I touched the gash with the Lianel. Light shot from the wound, Shimaron leaped into the air, and again we charged towards the dragon.