Clouds rushed to rest over the fresh gravesite of the wizard Clavius. Duncan found it appropriate and thanked the wind as he cast the last handful of dirt onto the pile. Only a brief rustling of leaves near his feet answered, but he knew the wind appreciated his words.
When taking control of the elements he was always careful to show the proper respect. He liked to think he learned from others’ mistakes. Too many weather wizards died because of their indifferent arrogance. He refused to be like the ones who came before him, like the one lying in the grave at his feet.
In the dead wizard’s case, angry fire killed him. The man should have known better. One can only force an elemental for a short time before it would turn on you. If you asked politely and thanked it, there was a good chance you would survive.
Duncan rarely forced nature to do his bidding. In the few emergencies when he’d taken control of an elemental without asking permission, he apologized profusely and made the proper sacrifices to appease them. Most knew he wouldn’t abuse them and were understanding As long as he didn’t do it often, he would be safe.
Clavius hadn’t bothered. He forced the same fire elemental to kill thieves in the poor district several times. Fire cannot be contained for long and many had died. The wizard hadn’t cared but the fire did. The last time he tried to use it, along with help from the wind, the elemental broke his control and turned on the man. Duncan wasn’t present but heard the man’s cries from across the village.
As Duncan stood over the grave of his biggest rival at the Conclave, he smiled in satisfaction. Unlike the dead man, he had asked permission before he sent the wind to help the fire. Clavius, like all wizards, had been an evil bastard, but Duncan was the worst. He would continue to be courteous to the elements so he could take out the rest of his rivals and rule the Conclave.
When he left the cemetery, he noted the wind elemental followed. He smiled grimly and headed back to his rooms to make his plans.
Rough draft 362 words
It’s not much of a story but I think it will be if I ever sit down and fix it. For now, I want to get ideas out of my head and on paper.
I’m trying to get back into writing most days. Not writing for an entire week, and losing my favorite aunt, took its toll on my habits. I’m still grieving but time is starting to do its job.
Flash fiction, and a lot of it is my goal right now. However, wizard Duncan (who needs a name change), fascinates me. He can control the elements/elementals but prefers wind. He’s not a nice guy, but he’s polite to the forces he controls. He needs a good protagonist and a goal. I feel a longer story brewing.
Oh, and this story is not the result of a writing prompt. I sat down to write and thought about the wind and ideas started flowing out of my fingers. Like I said, it’s not much of a story but writing it made me feel like me again.