Author: Sam

Story: Say it With Music: 6 of ?

Series: n/a

Characters: tba

Rating: PG-13: Death of Canon character(s); some violence and angst

Summary: What if the Chosen Six actually were killed in the realm?

Spoilers: None

Author’s Note: It has been some time since I updated due to severe health problems, a full time job, university, and my father’s recent death. I will try to update these teaser’s further as I find time. Please at least enjoy a hint of what is to come...

Song Note: *Little Fighter* by Europe.

Feedback: Yes, please? Especially constructive. samwise_baggins@yahoo.co.uk

Webpage: http://www.oocities.org/samwise_baggins/index.html

Presto screamed and ducked into an awkward roll, trying to avoid the sudden bolt of lightning aimed at him. He managed to make his way behind a smallish pile of debris, but knew it wasn't going to protect him long. Panting, eyes squeezed tightly closed, the young cinnamon-haired teen tried to think of something brilliant to get himself out of this mess. Heck, he'd even settle for something halfway dumb if it would just help.

Vibrations through the hard ground alerted the young Magician that his pursuer was getting entirely too close. He didn't dare peek, afraid she'd see his head. What he wouldn't give for something to throw; he was tolerable with a slingshot after all. The ground shook again and all thoughts of weapons were driven from the unarmed youth.

Suddenly, the ground stopped shaking. The noise of lightning strikes was ominously absent, as well. It was as if... as if she were lying in wait for him. The redhead gulped again, golden eyes opening wide in fear, panting turning to rasping gulps of increased terror. He couldn't take this waiting!

As the fifteen-year-old determined to try to make a dash for it, his plans were shattered as easily as the rock pile he was hiding behind. Another bolt of lightning had ripped through the charged air, adding to the stench of burning, the tingle of static charge… the presence of ozone surrounding the teen. He screamed, a sound that started high pitched and cascaded even higher as his voice took on the unpredictable changes of puberty. Presto dove away from the sharp debris.

He had to escape... find the others!

With one terrified look at the towering five-headed dragon, the Magician pushed himself into a run down the cavernous passageway. He moved quickly, but knew he was nowhere as quick as Tiamat behind him. It was all he could do to stay ahead of the sudden crashing of the huge beast, as well as the lightning she kept spitting at him from her blue-toned head. There was no time for anything resembling logical thought; reason had flown out the window with the first bolt.

Unfortunately, without logic, the teen was left with fear and gut instinct. Instinct had never been too great for Presto, and he found himself once more in a dead end, having gotten turned around in his mad dash for freedom. Tears welled up in his eyes and he turned to make a stand. There were no more piles of debris to shield him nor were any of his friends present. He had to rely on himself… and his faulty magic... to get out of this one.

With a huge, shaky intake of breath, feeling his sides ache at the effort after all the heavy panting he’d been doing, Presto took off his magic hat. He held it out in front of him, waving one hand frantically and chanting. His chanting came out as babble, not the normal silly rhymes he thought up; too much fear coursed through him for any words to actually make sense. It was more that he was praying with all his might to have something useful come out of that unpredictable hat.

A huge burst of light and force came from the Weapon of Power. The young man was thrown backwards with the energy, his glasses flying from their precarious perch as his hat was flung in another direction. With a scream, Presto was knocked on the head, but fortunately did not lose consciousness. Instead, he started frantically feeling around for his glasses.

He could see a blur of color, huge against the blurred background. Tiamat, he didn’t need detail to tell it was her, was recovering from the attack. She was coming closer, and Presto needed to be able to see to find his dropped hat. He whimpered once, then a strange calm over him.

The youth knew he was about to die; there wasn’t a question in his mind about it. Suddenly the fear evaporated as well. If this was definitely it, he would meet it like a true Young One. He would meet it head on.

Presto stood and faced Tiamat for the final time.

Placing one end of her javelin firmly on the shattered ground, the dark-haired teen used her strong leg muscles to push herself into the air. Diana gripped her javelin hard while her momentum spun her around the sturdy wood. She shot her legs out straight at the last moment, taking an Orc by surprise.

As the Orc was thrown backwards, into several other of his kind, the Acrobat hit the ground in a squat. She let herself go to one knee, something in the back of her mind protesting the move; her gymnastics training was warring with her exhaustion. The seventeen-year-old ruthlessly pushed back the inner voice, knowing she needed the slight respite... she wasn’t in a meet after all.

Looking up, a fire deep in her chocolate eyes, the teenager’s determination shone through. She let out a scream and lunged towards her attackers, turning her momentum into a fierce all-body offensive and knocking two Orcs to the ground. Another barrage of Orcs came charging at her as she landed in a crouch once more.

This was truly exhausting.