Yesteryear Fiction

Wizduel
By Neil Stock


When the wave of water rose to crush him, the mage thrust his hand into the air, blue sparks and tendrils of azure flame leaping from his palm, crawling across his fingers. Action came at the speed of blink and reflex, and then the wave was around him, his magic cleaving it as neatly as a sharp knife through gelatin. Beyond the wave, his nemesis, the man who had also been his teacher, stood upon the tumultuous sea, waiting.

Both knew that there was only one way out of this. Both knew that only one would leave.

Whether it would be the apprentice or the master,

Only time could tell.


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I make my living ghost writing the openings of novels for bestselling authors like Stephanie Meyer.