Defiance

[Praetor 1550]

Hey, some of you might have seen my post asking if people wanted their characters to figure in a story I was writing. (You'll find the link below).

 

Well, here I am, posting one part of it. The rest will come when I'm finished writing it. Comments are welcome. Critics as well as long as they are constructive. I believe the full story will be around 20-25k words, while the part here is 6k.

 

 

 

How to get your char in (If you want):

 

http://www.lordofthecraft.net/topic/112718-fiction/

 

However, I won't guarantee that your character will be added. I'll only do it if I find a good spot for one where I could maybe replace an invented character by an already existing one.

 

Figured characters:

-Jchizz - Trevor

-Crayfishchris - Yulnii / Kristian Von Craw

-SpamShok - Vellulaei'thill

-MrGreene_HD - Ilitharath

-Chaqery - De Bretagne

- dandan1350 - Baelish

-SupremacyOps - Kalenz Uradir

-Mithradites - Lucion Sullas

-iAmLeets - Brelyna

-Radahan - Radahan

-Caelria - Laureh'thill

-grimreaper98 - Carmenor

 

(Figured means you appear in the story but doesn't guarantee an important role or anything. That just depends on what kind of character I need and when. Some characters are invented. PS: I plan to add others later.)

 

-Remember: If you don't want your character included in the story, please PM me and I will modify it accordingly.

 

 

I'm writing this story as practice/a passtime so I'm not doing full revision nor am I planning out every character in detail/etc...Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this excerpt. I will probably post everything else in one go once I'm done.

 

 

Defiance

 

Ellia walked through the desolate town of rotting corpses and empty homes alone. Her feet ached and exhaustion tortured her with thoughts of warm beds and safe places. But she couldn’t stop here, she had to leave this place.

 

The rotting hand of a long dead elf squelched under foot but Ellia didn’t even look down. She couldn’t bring herself to gaze into another pair of bloodshot eyes another pockmarked face twisted in agony.

 

A dry sob tore at her parched throat and she stopped, looking at the desolate vista with red rimmed eyes. For as far as she could see, a yellow smog blanketed the land, hiding anything but the tips of houses and shattered towers. The sun barely pierced the grey clouds above and gave bathed the whole scene in weak light. Every few dozen feet, Ellia could see another hand, leg or head poking out from the thick mist that roiled up around her feet. The broken remnants of Lin’ame’s once lively inhabitants.

 

Only one thing remained untouched, as it always had been. It’s silver walls towered above her in an impressive display of power.

 

‘You always stay pure, don’t you.’ she croaked. Her knees jerked once and she fell to the ground without a sound. Her hands hit the jagged cobbles and blood spilled onto the ground. She would have reacted, but pain had become nothing more than a far away notion, something from a life before the catastrophy.

 

The ground was soft now, beneath her torn hands and the slag slipped through her fingers easily. Ellia struggled for a purchase before finally sitting up and leaning against a blackened and tortured tree with a moan. When she looked up, she realized she was not alone.

 

 

Before her stood a tall figure covered in armor. Two evil glows had replaced it’s eyes and smoke came out of it’s back. It was a demon, she knew it without a doubt in her mind. Many had spoken of them in the days before the cataclysm, she had taken them for legends and superstitions.

 

‘You made this...’ She rasped. Even her throat felt like it was splitting in two, but she no longer cared. ‘You are a demon.’

 

The monstrous figure lifted it’s long steel rod and pointed it towards her. From behind the iron mask and through the haze that had now envelopped Ellia’s mind came a single word, echoing like the howl of a thousand hounds.

 

‘Ata.’

 

There was a brilliant flash of light and a woosh of air. Ellia felt like she was flying, the illusion abruptly ended when she smashed into a tree and slid down the trunk. She looked down and gasped weakly. A huge smouldering burn covered her torso, small bits of flesh were peeling away as the once perfect skin boiled and blackened, revealing blistering red meat beneath.

 

She desperately scrabbled at her chest, tearing off large strips of calcinated skin. A small whimper escaped her lips. She couldn’t feel anything, why couldn’t she feel her hands, her chest? ‘I-I..’ Her hands fell to her side, limp and unresponsive.

 

A moment later, in another roar of flames, her life was abruptly ended.

 

...

 

Kalenz Uradir considered himself as a Mali’Aheral of simple tastes. Tea and books had always been a sufficient means of calming himself in times of strife and stress. Yet today neither of his usual mediums could seem to soothe his tension. Every cup of tea only made his excitement grow and the words blurred in front of his eyes as his mind turned to more pressing matters.

 

Finally, he could take it no more and rose from the comfortable chair in his study. His study gave him a perfect view of Celiante and it’s inhabitants. He felt in control.

 

‘Yiala, please tell every visitor that I will be busy for the next day.’

 

His personal assistant nodded and quickly wrote down a note on a long piece of yellowed parchement. ‘Of course Sohaer. What about your meeting with the Okarir’tir? He was most concerned about a certain matter when he reported in earlier this morning.’

 

Kalenz deposited his silver teacup on her table as he marched past her decisively. “He will wait, as will all other visitors. I have more pressing matters!’ He called over his shoulder.

 

‘Very well, Van’ayla Sohaer.’ Said Yiala with a sigh.

 

The dew was just beginning to rise of the stems of hundreds of elegant flowers when he stepped out. It created a cool haze above the city, carrying a fragrance incomparable to any other on the continent with it. All around him the city was bustling with activity and wherever he went, Mali’aheral would stop and bow.

 

He could see the yellow sun peeking above the walls, spraying light into the city in a maelstrom of colors. A tiny smile breached his serious mask, beautiful. His brisk pace soon had him on the walls, approaching the imposing city gates. Below him lay the thick diseased cloud that had hung below the city for the last year. Creating it had been one of the greatest feats of technology achieved by any Mali’Aheral, before or after. He stopped above the steel curtain and watched a lone figure slowly emerge from the mist and march it’s way up the steep incline. Had he been one of the ridiculous inferiors, he might have been hopping with excitement.

 

“Open the gates, evarir.” He called to the elves stationed below him.

 

They obeyed without question, as they had always done. It had taken the Evarir’thill Il’cruan more than a year to purge all but the pure and in that time many had resisted, but their authority had finally triumphed and now, now his city was clean.

 

The lone figure paused between the two huge thanic pillars positioned near the gates. It slowly turned around once then stepped through the gates and past another set of pillars, black and streaked with grey.

 

Kalenz hastened down the steps to greet the elf, the stone steps beneath his feet were smooth with use, a fact that only served to heighten his satisfaction. The population had grown so much in the last decade!

 

He stopped a few feet away and inspected one of his finest. Clad in bronze and golden armor, with tubes running up and down it’s back and arms in an intricate weave of metal and fabric, the figure was most impressive. However, it was the helmet that truly gave the effect that so many outside their city now surely feared. Glowing orange eyes with the image of a screaming skull molded into the faceplate.

 

“Karin’ayla, Ilitharath.”

 

Ilitharath tweaked a few knobs beneath his helm. There was a hiss of escaping air and a small click, he slid his helmet off and shook free his long golden hair. His skin was pale now, paler than most elves and a tiny scar ran along his jaw, barely visible against the backdrop of his skin.

 

“Ker’ayla, Sohaer. I was not expecting a visit upon my return.”

 

“I came to ask if you had found what you were seeking down...below.” Said Kalenz.

 

“Ah, yes. Absolutely.” Ilitharath pulled one of his satchels off and opened it, a pleased expression on his face.

 

Kalenz peered in and nodded, it had truly been found! With this, they would have no trouble asserting their dominance against the crumbling Oren Empire and the weakning dwarves. He stopped himself from reaching out and grabbing it, it would have been most unmali like. “I am pleased by your sucess. Certainly, your wife will be as well.”

 

“Husband.” Said a clear voice.

 

They both turned around to face the pale skinned blond with deep blue eyes. She wore a red dress, Kalenz wasn’t sure if she had any other color in her wardrobe and he was not inclined to verify. She had proud features and he supposed that she would be attractive enough if one was interested in such things.

 

She was resting a slim, gloved hand on her belly and Kalenz could see a tiny bulge. “Karin’ayla, Vellulaei’thill. I must congratulate you.” He said, with a small movement of his hand, another child. He could not help but detest the small creatures.

 

She inclined her head politely and refrained from the sharp comment she was certainly preparing. A small, sneaky smile played across his lips. Both of them had enough mutual respect to stay civil and friendly enough, they had worked together long to achieve such a sense with ease.

 

“I thank you, Sohaer.” Her eyes never wavered from the bag clutched in her husbands hands. She jabbed a finger at it, ignoring the exhausted expression on Ilitharath’s face. “You have retrieved the artifact?”

 

“Yes, my wife. I have found what you were seeking. Hopefully it shall advance your research.” Said Ilitharath cooly. His voice was without emotion and he looked at his wife neutraly, neither had a spark of affection in their eyes.

 

It was a well known secret that both of them had married for purely practical reasons, though what these were remained a mystery for all but a few. Nevertheless, all knew that there was no love between the two Mali’Aheral. Perhaps no more than five Mali were aware the real reason for their marriage, and Kalenz was one of them. Vellulaei’thill had been the first of the Evarir’thill Il’cruan, Ilitharath the second and she had wanted to keep a close eye on him.

 

Kalenz had approved it the moment Vellulaei’thill had proposed the idea to him. It was a logical step forwards.

 

“Excellent.” Said Vellulaei’thill, shattering his concentration. She reached forward and took the bag as gently as she would a newborn child. Probably more, if Kalenz new anything about her disdain for children. “I will take it down to the laboratory immediately, Husband, if you would take over my duties for the day.”

 

“That will be impossible, I have not slept in days and will do so now. To work in this state would be a mistake.” Replied Ilitharath sharply.

 

Vellulaei’thill frowned and gave him a disapproving look. A few leaves from the birch tree near the lake floated between them, swirling in the gentle breeze and flying above the walls, into the plagued lands below. “I suppose I shall relegate the duties to another then.”

 

“Very well. If that is all I shall retire to our home.” He gave her a polite nod and bowed to Kalenz before leaving.

 

“Van’ayla.” Said Kalenz to the departing elf. Once he had turned the corner he looked at Vellulaei’thill and rose a questioning eyebrow. “I was not aware you were with child.” Not aware, but most pleased. The spawn of two Evarir’thill Il’cruan would be a most promising mali in future years, even if he would have to suffer through it’s infancy.

 

Vellulaei’thill patted her bulging stomach lightly and sniffed. “I am not pleased with the decision, it shall slow me down and remove my ability to perform my duties. Yet, it is the logical decision now that we are at peace.”

 

“Peace. We are not at peace until all the lands are under our dominion.” Replied Kalenz. He sometimes wondered if her arrogance had any bounds. The Oren Empire could, if they decided to muster their strength and fight, still pose a threat to them.

 

She waved a dismissive hand and began walking towards the silver towers in the middle of town. Kalenz followed after her at a slow pace, taking in the view of his city, as he did every time he left the center of Tahn’siol. “We are at peace, Sohaer. The bortu are broken apart and cower in their caves, the valah lords fight for control of a now vacant throne and the uruks, well the uruk are no longer our concern. We truly are the master race of this continent.’

 

...

 

The throne room of Oren was rife with tension. What had once been a magnificent place where only the richest came to socialize now lay in ruin. Broken pillars littered the floor and shattered walls scattered their stony skin across the room. Long ago these shards would have bloodied the soft feet of the noblewomen that came to speak to the queen, if but for a moment.

 

Now they were crushed into dust, to be blown by the wind that slipped through the now vacant window. Crushed by the iron boots of soldiers and knights.

 

All along the wall stoof men armed with pikes and crossbows. Their eyes were deeply sunken into their skull and not one was beardless. Many were covered in grime and looked to tired to stand on their feet. But stand they did, and proudly so.

 

‘You should surrender, Baelish. It would spare you the last of shames.’

 

‘I will not...’ The voice broke. It was old and weary, stretched thin by time. ‘I will not throw the royal crown in front of the feet of a De Bretagne.’

 

De Bretagne stood in front of an old, dark throne. He remembered the days when it had glowed with the inner fire of many jewels. Most of these had probably been taken to finance the cost of war. He did not care, with him at the head of the Empire, they would finally stand a chance against the cursed High Elves with their poisons and technology.

 

‘Very well then.’ He drew his sword from it’s sheath. Blood still crusted the steel blade, the marks of their fierce battle. ‘I will say this, Baelish. Your men fought well and brave. It is a shame that they must die.’ He stepped forward, till but a few feet seperated him from the decrepit old man.

 

Baelish had aged since he had last seen him, that fateful day at the wedding of a count and baroness whose names now escaped him. Where once stood a proud man with flowing black hair and rich beard now sat a man with the eyes one who had seen to much and face of a dead man. It was a shame, a damn shame.

 

‘It could have ended in a better way, Baelish.’

 

‘You know it never would have.’ He coughed and sat up straighter. He glared straight into De Bretagne’s eyes as he drove the blade into the Kings chest. Even in death, that glare stayed focused on him. Damn, he’d need to burn this corpse before he could forget that last look. He hadn’t been the traitor, he had done the right thing.

 

‘Long live the King!’ Shouted one of the men in the hall.

 

‘Long live the King!’ Bellowed the others. De Bretagne turned around and saluted the crowd wearily. All through the city he heard the clash of war fade away, replaced by the cheers of his men. Against the backdrop of a fire lit night, his flag rose upon the cathedral.

 

The war was over.

 

 

...

 

A hand on her shoulder jerked Vellulaei’thill from her sleep. It took her longer than usual to wake and when she did, she felt the familiar roil of nausea deep in her stomach. She quickly rose and hurried over to the small bathroom near her bedroom. She knelt over a bucket and vomited. It felt like her throat was being torn apart and made her want to claw at the tender flesh of her pale neck.

 

Once she had emptied the meager remnants of the previous days meals she rose and rinsed out her mouth slowly, looking at herself in the mirror. She grimaced, as perfect as ever, apart from the small lump in her ever swelling stomach.

 

‘This pregnancy is an obstacle and an inconvenience.’ She said more to herself than the elf that occupied the nearby bed.

 

‘It is necessary, you said this yourself.’ Said Ilitharath as he rose and donned a loose silken shirt and pants.

 

‘I am aware of what I said to the Sohaer.’ She returned cooly. Vellulaei’thill eyed Ilitharath unhappily. He had slept clotheless once again, against her express wishes. It was as if he did these things simply to get a reaction from her. Well, she wouldn’t play his games every day. ‘I must meet with the scientific assembly to discuss how we shall proceed with this new artifact. I would advise you to gather two other Evarir’thill Il’cruan and investigate the home of Cir’dian. Pity is not an option with this ikru.’

 

Ilitharath walked towards the ladder leading to the lower levels of their relatively large home. ‘Very well, Vellulaei’thill.’ He replied without turning around. They had spoken more than they usually did on a morning.

 

‘Thank you.’ She said before walking over to her private wardrobe and quickly picking a dress. Color mattered little, it only needed to be loose enough that she could avoid looking at the bump in her belly constantly. It was becoming exceedingly annoying and she could only dread what would happen in the following months.

 

Moments later she was out the door and walking through the busy streets of Haelun’Or towards the great library. All around her walked Mali’Aheral, pure and perfect. Their blond and white hair shone in the bright sun that now blanketed all over her city in a golden glow. Dozens of shops were opening their doors to the swelling crowd. From brightly colored art shops to the ever present bookstores there were a hundred varieties of each.

 

At the edge of the street she could see an Evarir’thill Il’cruan towering above a terrified looking Mali’ame. It was not uncommon for some of the lowerfolk to escape their slums and attempt to hide in Mali’Aheral society. Of course, they never got far and never lived very long. This one would no doubt meet her fate in the acid pits like so many others before.

 

‘How annoying, I was hoping to have a day of peace without having to lay eyes upon the slaves.’ Said a cool voice beside her.

 

Vellulaei’thill turned towards it and smiled for a moment. ‘Brelyna, I did not expect to see you here.’

 

‘I have been given temporary leave from my studies, I am told that it shall help me clear my mind and work more efficiently.’ Replied the younger elf with, wrinkling her nose. She had long blond hair and stunning blue eyes. It surprised Vellulaei’thill that some of the more emotionally-prone Mali’aheral had not already begun to court her.

 

‘A strange notion, but intriguing nonetheless. I suppose time is not of the essence now that we have won.’ Replied Vellulaei’thill. She brushed by a child and sent the young Mali’aheral reeling with a small cry of protest. She winced and rubbed the tip of her ear gently. Children.

 

‘You are still not fond of our spawn, I see.’ Said Brelyna. She clasped her hands in front of her and smirked.

 

‘I will not be raising it, I have little time to waste on their education if it is not to impress the importance of purity upon them.’

 

‘The committee of science still takes most of your time?’

 

Vellulaei’thill sighed softly and nodded. ‘There is much to be done, despite our victory. For the broken empire of Oren is not yet shattered. Speaking of which...’ She trailed off and looked towards the library meaningfully.

 

Brelyna raised an eyebrow and skilfully hid a flash of irritation that Vellulaei’thill barely had time to notice. The young one was getting better since the last time they had spoken. She would no doubt turn into a skillful asset to Haelun’Or and the Maehr’sae Hiylun’ehya. ‘Very well.’ She said coolly. ‘Van’ayla, Vellulaei’thill.’

 

‘Van’ayla Brelyna.’ Said Vellulaei’thill as she turned away and walked off towards imposing library with it’s towering spires and massive oak doors.

 

A fully armored Evarir opened the heavy amalgame of oak beams for her and she stepped into the imposing building. The first thing the felt was the smell, the musty odor of old books and ancient bookcases made of the most resilient of woods. A shiver of delight ran down her back. Next came the view, hundreds and hundreds of books sorted into massive sections, stretching far away for an uncounted number of feet. It was more of a home than any she had before.

 

‘The Committee is waiting for you.’ Said a guard with a polite nod of his head.

 

She responded with a sharp tilt of her head and made her way through the high walls of wood and paper. All around here were young and old Mali’Aheral toiling away tirelessly over the countless tomes collected in their library. Many had been retrieved from the personal hoards of unfortunate Mali’ame and ker. Surprisingly enough there were some tomes of great interest hidden within the worthless drivel of inferior races.

 

She followed her usual path until she reached a large marble staircase that dug into the stone beneath the Library. Even from the top she could hear the dozens of voices filtering through the air. She took a deep breath and smoothed out her dress. Now would be a time where the fate of all Mali’aheral would be decided.

 

...

 

Vellulaei’thill held up the artifact with one hand, presenting it to the dozen or so Mali’Aheral assembeld around her. She could see the same light shining in all their eyes, the lust for knowledge and the desire to dominate all inferior races. So powerful, such strong-willed elves. She sometimes wondered why it had taken them so long to accomplish their goals.

 

‘This is the ventilation unit that our honorable soldiers were tasked with retrieving. I shall not bore you with the details for you are all acquainted with it’s uses.’

 

She set down the object on a bronze pedestal, carefully masking the effort it had taken her.

 

‘With this unit and the proper use of siege weaponry we will be able to bombard enemy cities with little effort, infecting their lands and retreating until all resistance has been crushed by disease.’

 

‘Your zeal is well noted, Vellulaei’thill Uradir ‘ Said a purple eyed illir from the back of the room. He stood up and walked closer to the podium, trailing a hand along the metal cover of the artifact. Vellulaei’thill held back her desire to slap him as he touched her precious machine. Laureh’thill, perhaps one of the more arrogant and detestable members of the commitee. His purple eyes bored into Vellulaei’thill’s, cold and emotionless. ‘However, you yourself have said that we are at peace. Why waste time developping weaponry when we could expand our notions of civic engineering?’

 

Vellulaei’thill waved a dismissive hand in his direction and turned towards the large slate board hooked to the deep blue marble walls. It had been set up on her request and was a most useful tool during the endless debates of the science committee. She grabbed a small piece of chalk and began sketching upon the board.

 

‘Haelun’Or is safe yes, the enemy is crushed and we are at peace. Yet the inferiors are like the ever persistant insect that will plague you at night. They copulate like animals and breed at a rapid pace, I would not be surprised if we begin to face disturbances in the shape of desperate raiding parties soon. It would be wise to advance upon their remaning untouched cities and decimate them.’ She took a deep breath and finished her drawing, a simple map of the continent. ‘To do so would deny them their breeding grounds.’

 

Laureh’thill gave her a disdainful look, which she returned in full force. She was not intimidated by this one, she had known him as a child. ‘Very well, I accept this plan then. However, I require a copy of this ventilation unit for the good of the city.’ He said after a while.

 

Vellulaei’thill quickly hid her relief behind a mask of indifference. Half the commitee followed him, while the other half would have licked her metaphorical boots had she asked. Her plan would go through. ‘That is an acceptable request, it shall be done.’

 

‘Excellent.’ Said Lucion Sullas, rising from his seat apart from the others. ‘As the presiding member of this commitee I move to a vote for the weaponization of the ventilation unit for the good of the Mali’Aheral. And it’s use in the city for the Maehr’sae Hiylun’ehya.’

 

Every Mali’aheral in the room rose their hand. It was a rare gesture of unity in a council that was split down the middle.

 

‘Vellulaei’thill, this project has been passed by the committe of Science, you are free to begin your research.’ said Lucion Sullas with a cold glint in his eyes.

 

...

 

Tahn’siol was a hive of activity. Everywhere Vellulaei’thill looked she saw soldiers in their bronze and silver armor, carrying stacks of weaponry to the wagons. Children threaded their way between legs as they loaded food and provision into yet another dozen carts. She knew it would be enough, nothing would stand in their way.

 

Below the city, in the ever present haze, she could see vague shapes moving about, like ghosts flickering in the weak sunlight they slipped out of her sight with ease, hiding behind vaporous clouds of poison. They were engineers and workers, toiling away at the massive weapons that would once and for all assert elven dominance on the continent.

 

“We are ready to move. Please take your place in the carriage.” Said a soldier beside her.

 

She nodded and walked over to one of the hulking feat of engineering. It rose twenty feet above ground and was completely sealed from the exterior, except for two large purifying vents. The safest method of travel for the nonmilitary folk from Tahn’siol and another invention of Vellulaei’thill and Sil’llirin. It had attracted a lot of attention among the scientific and mercantile circles.

 

The column formed up quickly and Vellulaei’thill settled down at her desk. With a shout, the gates creaked open and the army began to move. Vellulaei stayed focused on her work as they traveled. They marched and rolled from dawn to dusk with little reprieve and finally exited the infected lands upon the eve of their second night.

 

Once all were certain the area was pure Vellulaei stepped out from her abode and joined the crowds of soldiers organizing their camp. They were quick and efficient, following her advice when given and never making a mistake. Once the guards were patrolling and the fire had been lit, Vellulaei returned to her cabin where Ilitharath greeted her.

 

‘Husband.’ She said.

 

‘Wife, the trip was useful?’ He replied as he joined her, walking into the wagon.

 

‘Acceptably so. What do the engineers say?’

 

‘The weapon will be ready by the time we reach the valah capital, they assure me that all is in order.’ Said Ilitharath.

 

‘I shall verify yours words at dawn, we can not allow them to fail us on this.’

 

‘Of course.’ Said Ilitharath, he narrowed his eyes and removed his armor piece by piece, carefully piling it up in one corner of the room. Beneath her wore the customary Sullirin leather. Vellulaei’s gaze wandered over his bare arms, taut muscles gleamed with sweat. She could not fathom the desire some Mali’aheral professed for such sights. Certainly, copulation was pleasurable enough, if unecessary, but what joy did this view bring to them?

 

Both their heads snapped up when a shout echoed across the camp. It was followed by the familiar roar of Mali’aheral weaponry. Ilitharath grabbed his weapon and saber and rushed to the door. ‘Attack! Stay here Vellulaei!’ He shouted over his shoulder as he rushed out into the darkness. Far away, Vellulaei could see the intermitent flashes of light and half hidden shadows as a battle raged.

 

She shrugged and sat back down , pulling out her journal. Mali’aheral technology and soldiers were superior, she needed not fear for her security. Her conviction held only until the door to her wagon was shattered and in stormed a fully armored valah.

 

His armor was tinged red with blood and half his face looked like it had been boiled away by acid, but he stood nonetheless. He bore a shield and sword, much like the Mali’aheral once had and was pointing his blade at her. ‘With me, or you die.’ He said in a voice tight with either pain or fury.

 

‘You will not leave this camp alive valah, you would do well to not damage my body.’ She replied.

 

‘Trevor, we got to move! Pointies are wrecking the diversion!’

 

With a growl, he leapt forward and swung his sword at Vellulaei’thill. She sat with her back straight and her eyes open, staring proudly up at him. She had done more to advance her race than any before, she would die knowing they would always remember her. The flat of the blade smashed into her skull and sent her flying across the room, where she crumpled down to the floor in a heap of bloodied hair and garments.

 

...

 

‘Incompetent, were your duties truly so complicated that you, true Mali’aheral were unable to hold against two pitifully armed valah while they took the most important person on this convoy?’ Said Ilitharath, his voice rising with every word until he was shouting at the three elves standing before him with their eyes lowered.

 

The heat of his fury colored their cheeks with shame, but they said nothing.

 

‘Do you realize that without Vellulaei’thill we will not be able to properly operate the ventilation units? Fools, leave my sight now lest I decide to purify this race of incapable soldiers like you.’ He stepped back, breathing heavily as the three elves hurried away from their raging commander.

 

Ilitharath looked back at the shattered wagon door and the traces of blood inside and felt a twinge of worry. What had these valah done to his wife? He shook his head abruptly and cleared his mind. With a wave of his hand his sent his commanders off to lift camp.

 

‘Whoever has taken one of ours shall be found and liquidated, slowly.’ He called to the gathered elves. ‘I shall lead the search while Commander Carmenor takes command of the main forces.’ He thought back to the old Okarir’tir, Ikur. Sometimes he wished that the elf had not been purified, so irritating was his replacement. But Carmenor was pure and effective, it was all that counted.

 

He looked over the nearly silent camp and watched his soldiers move with quiet efficiency. They would crush the valah and get back his wife.

 

...

 

Kristian Von Craw glanced over his shoulder for the hundredth time in the past hour. Everything looked normal, the tall grass was swaying beneath the influence of a gentle breeze, tossing dead leaves and grains of wheat through the air. A few trees were scattered in copses, their branches creaked and stretched out towards each other. But nothing was normal when it came to High Elves.

 

‘We should pick up ta’ pace, Trevor!’ He shouted towards the front of the line. His legs were on fire and he was grinding his teeth into a fine powder to keep from grimacing in pain. Rather pain than capture by those demons.

 

Trevor looked at him and waved a lazy hand in his direction. No matter how long they marched or how hard they fought, the captain never seemed to tire or lag behind. He was a never ending well of boisterous energy, despite his newly won battlescars across the face. ‘Relaax Craw, we’ve got this covered. The army did their little raid and distracted them long enough to get us away. Stop worrying.’

 

Kristian shook his head and picked up the pace. His armor was beginning to wear down on him and he could feel the thick leather plastered to his back with sweat. A trickle ran down his forehead and into his eye, he flinched and swiped it away angrily. ‘Damn it Trevor, this is t’rice damned insane.’ He growled as he came up to the captain. ‘We jus’ abducted one o’ their top wenches and you don’ think they’ll come after us?’

 

Trevor wheeled around and smiled, but it wasn’t the good natured smile Kristian was used too. ‘Look Von Craw, the rest of the team is tired too, we push too hard and we won’t be able to run when they catch up.’

 

‘When?’ Snapped Kristian. It felt like someone had dunked a bucket of ice cold water on his back.

 

‘Move on lads!’ Shouted Trevor to the remaining fifteen men. ‘We’ll catch up in a second, got a few words to say to me sarge.’

 

None of the men looked up at their leaders words and Kristian began to realize the verity of his speech. The rest of the team could barely stand. None of them were young and they had all been marching for days. Their only horse was bearing the limp form of the High Elf.

 

‘Listen Kristian, we both know these guys are going to catch up some time or the other. As long as we get into Human patrolled territory we have a chance, but we’ll never make it if we start dropping like flies.’ He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through the tall grass, shaking his head.

 

‘This ain’t about money no more Trev, send a man on horseback ahead with ‘er while we ‘old them back. If we die then so be it but I ain’t throwing away the best chance us humans have ‘ad in months.’

 

‘I know Kristian!’ Said Trev, clenching his fists. ‘But I ain’t doing anything of the sort less I know I need to, you ken?’

 

Kristian shifted his shield on his back and nodded. He rolled his shoulder slowly and leaned back, trying to ease the persistent aches in his back and arms. He was getting too old for the Mercenary work, perhaps he’d try to join the army as an instructor once this hellish war was over.

 

Suddenly, Trevor tensed. He turned towards the horizon and gave Kristian a wide eyed look. ‘You hearing that mate?’

 

Indeed, far away across the plains Kristian could hear the dull thud of hooves and it was growing louder by the second. ‘Move!’ He bellowed, grabbing Trevors arm and dragging him back to the group. ‘We gotta move boys, now! They’re coming!’

 

The unit erupted into panic as soldiers drew their swords and strung their recurve bows. Presiding over the chaotic preparations was the ever present thud of charging horses, now accompanied by the distant cries of elven voices.

 

Kristian stood next to the unconscious elf with his sword drawn and a forlorn look on his face. ‘We ain’t gonna make it.’ He whispered to himself.

 

‘That’s bullcrap mon, ain’t nothing gonna stop us from beating these pointy eared bastards back inta’ tha’ damnated mud, aye?’ Bellowed Radahan, waving his massive claymore in the air.

 

‘He’s right Craw.’ Murmured Trevor next to him. ‘We got to bring this girl back to the city, she’s our only chance.’ He gave Kristian a meaningful look. The old merc shook his head, rage welling up inside him. He tightened his grip on his sword and stepped forward.

 

‘That ain’t happening Cap’n, I’m staying with the men. Send another.’

 

Trevor waved a hand at the line of tired men. Each had a fiery light in his eyes and gripped his weapon tightly. They were a motley assembly with humans from every corner of the continent, from the swarthy skinned southerners to the ever pale Adunians. None looked ready to back down. ‘We ain’t budging Kristian. You’re right you know, this ain’t only about money anymore.’

 

‘Aye, cap’n knows it mon. We ain’t lettin’ some wee elves stop us.’ Bellowed Radahan, again swinging his claymore in the air and screaming invectives at the approaching enemy.

 

‘Now go Craw, bring us humans that hope we need!’ Roared Trevor. He drew his longsword and turned to face the enemy. ‘Death ain’t gonna scare us, we’ve been ******* it for years!’. The mercenaries screamed their approval and charged forward, all signs of fatigue forgotten. Trevor glanced over his shoulder one more time and grinned. ‘For us, Kristian!’ He shouted.

 

‘For us.’ Kristian repeated in a low voice. He watched them go, feeling desperately lonely. All those he had ever known were charging towards their death and he could do nothing about it. With a barely suppressed roar of rage he leapt into the saddle and shoved the elf forward. ‘You better be worth it, elf or I’m killing you myself.’

 

He kicked his heels into the horse's flanks and off it went, charging through the grass at breakneck speed. He could almost feel it’s joy as it rushed through the open plains. It couldn’t hear the distant screams of pain or the clash of steel, sounds that felt like daggers in Kristians back. He started crying as his beast led him far away from his only family.

 

[Jchizz 115]

*points* Hey look it's Trevor!

 

But actually, very well written, in my opinion. The plot is engaging, the characters seem realistic (for high elves), and the writing is very good for a quick draft.

[DruinsBane 240]

Fantastic story, I hope to see more in the coming days.

[Demotheus 651]

Lotha should be in this XD she has a name for screwing things up. She doesn't care who's going down so long as there's chaos

[Demotheus 651]

Did u quit this?

[Knox213 10]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.