Renrael

Gravity Lapse

He was a mage. He could go wherever his skills could get him. They’d gotten him pretty high, this time. The wind was cool from the sea. His hands were on his knees and he caught his breath through his triumphant smile. He was going to be victorious in this game of Murlocs and Mages. He just knew it. They’d never find him here.

A bird looked at him. He grinned back. Then down the wall.  It was a long way down. The bird dropped off its perch and spiraled in a glide down, down, down then up and away into the sky. He nearly whooped outloud, but then caught himself. He needed a few more minutes to make sure the other kids were found first.

Renrael stood up and stretched his back. He bounced a few times, shaking out the fatigue in his arms, his bright eyes climbing the spire at the corner. Could he…


His attention snapped back below him at the sound of a crowd of children tearing down the alley in a mob of flailing limbs and laughter. Ren dropped to his belly, peeking over the edge of the wall.

Six.. seven… Eight. EIGHT! He’d won.

Like any good magister, he made his entrance with style. With an ill-advised but impressive somersault he rolled over the edge and dropped down in front of his friends. His knees dropped and his hands spread to skid and catch him. The pain was worth the surprised look of open wonder on their faces though.

They were of an age where prizes weren’t incentives–just winning was enough. And it wasn’t just the game Renrael had won that day.

He was going to get up there again.