Today's excerpt: From "Lodore" NaNo WriMo 2011
I started this draft a while ago, but just never got to finishing the last few scenes. So, when I ran out of ideas for "High School Revolution" this year, I went back to get some of my words finishing "Lodore." This is one of the final scenes where the MC Rane and her sister vanquish the evil witch Storma.
I spun to the parlor in time to see Storma’s smoky shape flying through a window. “Back door!” I ordered. We sprinted toward the kitchen, shoving at anything in our way. We rushed through the door. Storma’s figure dashed across the lawn toward the garden.
“She’s saving strength.” I tore after her. Linny let loose an arrow after Storma, forcing the witch into her ghost shape. She reformed on the garden path, sparing a moment to glare at us before darting inside the hedge surrounding the garden.
It was easy now to follow the ripping sounds and the pieces of ebony fabric caught in the branches. She was within my sight. I slung the dagger forward, catching Storma at the waist. She stumbled, arms flying outward to catch herself—her hands covered in thick wrinkles. The dagger was working. She caught the side of the hedge, holding herself up.
Linny burst through the branches in front of Storma. She scooped up the dagger and raced toward Storma, slashing in front of her wildly. Storma cried in frustration. Sooty smoke rose upward, but hung heavily as Storma tried to escape. Linny flung the dagger in my direction.
Thick smoke curled around me, almost tangible. I caught the dagger. Storma reformed behind me. I thrust across her back. The blade caught, dragging jaggedly. Shrieks filled the air. Storma tried to turn. She fell, black eyes flashing. I threw the dagger downward. Straight through her heart.
Black dust exploded, whipping around me. I fell to my knees. Covered my face with my hands; grains of sand stinging every uncovered surface of my body. Her screams turned my stomach.
The dust fell. I opened my eyes. Shattered pieces of the blade blinked at me from the midst of a pile of gleaming, obsidian sand. I reached to finger it, my hands shaking.
I turned to Linny. She stared at the bow in her hands. Tentatively she held it up, tried to pull back the string. She laughed, joyously bell-like.
“I can’t,” she said, her voice something between a laugh and a sob. “Oh, Rane. I can’t.”I stumbled toward her. “She’s gone.” I threw my arms around her shoulders. “She’s gone.”