Word Shield

Wednesday has come around again and I’m happy to present this week’s flash fiction.

Water dripped in a contrary rhythm as Fastolph knelt at the Word Shield. His lantern’s flame echoed loudly in the silent chamber and did little against the cavern’s absolute darkness. Not that Fastolph noticed. Master Ephers words blazed in his mind.

“You can bring a person back to life by remembering.”

The words haunted him, drove him across Geathien. From shores to peaks, and into the depths chasing a myth. The Word Shield.

All knew ancient cities riddled Gaethien’s crust. A farmer could hardly plow without turning up relics. Everyone knew, but no one understood.

Fastolph nearly understood. Ephers words and a chance relic in Drathel had sent him here. And now, with his books scattered about him, he read their words etched in stone. Calling them from the age’s dust to the present.

The world twisted. The absolute darkness glimmered.

He looked up, and the words followed, blazing as the stone faded away. Beyond them the light took form.

A woman stood, arms loosely at her sides, peering at him through the words. She reached out and the words coiled about her hand.

Fastolph lumbered clumsily to his feet, reaching back to her. His fingers pressed against hers.

Heat flooded from his body racing toward her. Yanking, Fastolph couldn’t withdraw though she didn’t grip him. The surged passed, and he crumpled his breath billowing before him.

A hand touched his shoulder. “Thank you for freeing us. Cindra will be remade.” The shadows stirred beyond her taking countless forms.

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Be sure to check out the other Wednesday Words authors’ take on the prompt.