The Bishop and the Dragon

The Bishop of Brightness snarled and glared at all in the court, panning to his left, then to his right, watching all cower before his wrath. That is, all but two. The visitor and his page stood before him, patient and calm. The page was looking around wide-eyed, watching the fear of the courtiers, but her eyes were filled with surprise and wonderment. Her master, however, stared unblinking at the Bishop. The Wanderer, as he had called himself, waited without bother, watched without reservation. And the Bishop decided to take insult.

Letting out a long hiss with a single breath, then a roar of rage with the next, the bishop suddenly exploded in a burst of magical light. He seemed to suck the brightness out of his courtiers, and channel it outwards again. The light washed over everyone, making them all flash, then drop to their knees.

The Bishop did not, however, take anything from the Wanderer or his page. The light blasted against them like a powerful wind, gusting out of nowhere and buffeting their clothes in an instant. Then, the Bishop stood in silence, a silence that echoed through the grand hall.

The Wanderer's eyes had narrowed, but otherwise he had not changed at all. His clothing, however was in a disarray, with some buttons lost and some edges frayed. He did not seem as content with the proceedings as he was before the Bishop's outburst. Then, he turned to check on his page.

She was back a few paces from where she had been standing, and she was laying on her back, spread out like an eagle. Her eyes were wide, but the light of hope and awe was gone, taken away by her spirit when that had departed her body.

The Wanderer had stopped breathing and his eyes narrowed even more. The few in the crowd that dared to look up at the wanderer, though still careful to avoid looking in the direction of the Bishop, saw white smoke rising from the edges of the Wanderer's eyes. His aura shimmered and darkened, giving off a flickering reddish hue.

The Wanderer inhaled long and slow, turning back to face the bishop with the pace of continents colliding. His chest expanded to the point where the few buttons left on his shirt popped, then he let out a roar of his own, leaning forward as if to brace against the force of his own sound.

The Bishop's eyes had been angry, but curious. A subject of his fury still stood, and now seemed to be preparing a retaliation. A smile crossed his face as the first sounds of a beastly roar came from the Wanderer's throat. The bishop always liked a challenge. It made him appear even more mighty when he swatted it down.

The bishop's smile faded as he heard the roar rumble into something less beastly and more elemental. It was no longer the lion threatening intruders. It was more primal, heard when the earth itself awoke. His screams were high and girlish as he raised his arms to fend off the intense heat and flame that shot forth from the wanderer's mouth.

While dragon fire could melt stone and metal, the Bishop was able to bring up a shield of magic to deflect the blast. He was knocked down and to the side, but he remained intact, shaken, yet, unscorched.

The thunder of the blast echoed in the hall, as if the rumbling was still shaking the stone foundations of the cathedral. No one dared look up at he who defied the Bishop in his own hall.

"You will bring her spirit back to her body, or I will bring this place of worship down to the ground," hissed the wanderer. "And I will know her when I see her, so do not think to place something else in there, with or without her."

Then, the wanderer turned and walked down the long carpet and out through the great doors. The bishop's eyes did not follow the wanderer. Instead, they were locked on the body of the girl laying sprawled on the carpet, still and dead.