--Hello! This is the first time I publish a story. Hope you enjoy! Thanks to my beta Cassiopeia Quinn!--
I was running down this street with the proverbial mob swinging torches and hayforks ready to lynch me the moment they get me in their hands. Probably to tear me apart or to put me on the stake and turn me into a big tasty steak. I love steaks but rather from meat other than mine.
The "mob" consisted of the three mages of this village with the name... I didn't know and actually didn't care. It was somewhere in the far east, away from any city. Far enough to not get in trouble, I thought, but apparently I have the uncanny ability to raise a ruckus and get people to wield their swords or cast their spells against me. In this case that fact was an unfortunate thing because two of the three mages were specialized in anti-magic. Or "Magica Contraria" as the scholars call it. Really, magic made to counter magic. Who would think of shit like that and who would learn it?! Obviously, two of these maniacs lived in this village and that was why I was running - and I didn't even try to grind their faces into the dust, because they can easily dispel my magic.
I am a Puppeteer. This is a specialized form of control magic. To say it with the words of a scholar's book I once read: "Puppeteers are born with a certain aspects of "Magica Contollaria", mainly the dark and perverted ones. With demonic powers they can take control of a creature's or human's movement, make them abide by their wicked will." Well, I don't feel possessed by any demon and from all the other attributes I'd say "perverted" is okay with me... though nothing of the rest.
A fireball passed my head too close for my liking. I turned and faced the three men that were standing about 40 meters away from me. There was a skinny, young anti-magician, a wide gray robe hanging down his slim shoulders and thick string made of heavy cotton entwining around his narrow waist, holding the rough fabric together. Stuporously short cut hair and bare feet made it obvious that he couldn't be a mage for long. Actually, if he didn't have a complex tattoo carved into his forehead, the lines still black and not bleached by the sun, one would have thought of him as an apprentice.
The man to his side was the exact opposite. Fat and of small stature, he only reached to the young man's shoulders. His decorated, grey robe was made of a shiny material, perhaps satin, and clutches his enormous stomach. He wore a grey cap made of the same material and he was already short of breath.
A middle aged bear of a man completed the trio. His flaming red vest and the crimson cape indicated that he was a combat mage, specialized in fire. Just fucking great. Right now said fire mage was casting a fireball and sent the burning orb flying towards me. I jumped sideways to dodge it. After getting off of the ground, I focused on the attacking mage and did it. I suddenly felt a strange connection with his body and like a Puppeteer with puppets I could see strings going from my hand to his limbs, shining silvery-red. I made him turn to face his companions and initiated the gestures for another fireball. It was harder to make him say the right words because vocal chords are not so easily manipulated but luckily the formula was short and simple. However halfway through the spell I felt the magic cords rip. He stopped his actions and turned angrily towards me. 'Fuck those anti-mages!' And because there were two, it wouldn't even help to overpower one of them because the other would neutralize my spell in moments.
I spun around and started running again into the woods. That would keep that combat mage from having a direct fire line at me. Passing the first trees I tried to think a way out of this. I evaded bushes and swiftly ducked under low hanging branches subconsciously. It's not the first time I run away and I did so in many different environments. The farther I ran the better my chances because that old, bulky mage will have problems keeping up with my speed and if they leave him behind, it's my turn!
The underwood got thicker and slowed me down a little, drawing my attention to my running. I stopped for a minute and listened for my chasers, but I couldn't hear them. Instead a faint sound of water rushing down a waterfall was audible. Hopefully I could get rid of them there. Suddenly I heard silent calls for me to stop. 'Shit, they still follow me!' I climbed over an uprooted oak and reached a small clearing. I saw the waterfall and silently cursed – there was no way to get over this torrential river, and at the bottom of the waterfall were sharp, pointed rocks; so jumping down really wasn't an option.
I looked over my shoulder but was not able to see my pursuers yet. There was a tree growing at the edge of the plateau, its roots hugging the rocky stone wall. 'Okay, perhaps that's a possibility.' I started to climb down the wall with the help of the roots. After perhaps 4 meters down, I saw the mages at the brink - 10 meters right from my position. Shit! The combat mage started another spell while the younger anti mage began climbing after me. I could barely dodge the fireball, feeling its heat when it passed me and hit the water with an angry hiss. That was my chance. I focused on the young anti mage and made the connection. I could see the older mage casting the counter spell but he wasn't on time. With a small twitch of my fingers the young man pushed himself off the wall and let go of the roots he was clutching to. My cords ripped again but it was too late, he was already falling. I saw his panicked face for a moment before I got hit by a fire lance. 'Damn!' I lost grip on the ledge I clung to and with the force of the impact I got catapulted to my left.
