Revenge Of The Elf (Book 1) (12 page)

“It's the truth,” she said simply. “I could have prevented it.”

“How?”

“I don't know. But I know the reason I didn't try.”

“Why?”

The elf looked at him. “I was afraid.”

The words were colder in her ears than the breath of Winter whipping through the trees. She could feel echoed of the fear which had riveted her to the spot those years ago. Left her struggling to decide which path to take. And which, finally, led her away from the sight of the white-robed mage wading up the right path, his hands glowing brightly with power.

“Afraid? Of a Ruleist mage and more than a dozen troops?” Chukshene swatted a few thin twigs hanging low as he passed, though his gaze firmly held hers. “Who the fuck wouldn't be? If it were me, I'd have shat myself and run in the other fucking direction!”

“But I'm not you,” she said, brushing her fingers against a few of the knotted rags in her hair. “I should've chewed that fucking spellslinger up and spat his fucking bones out on the courtyard for the dogs to fight over. It's what I was trained to do.”

“You're being too hard on yourself,” the spellslinger said. His shoulders slumped a little and he tapped his grimoire a few times before speaking again. “We've all had to make choices in the grip of fear. Me, I was at Ghostfear Keep nine years ago when the Great Wall was breached. If you think I look stupid now, you should've seen me then. A pimple-faced apprentice clinging to my master's dick like it was a fucking lifeline. The Dark Lord had fallen only a month before. Everyone was running in every which fucking direction. No one knew who to fight, or whether we should even try. The Black Blades broke through Doomgate and tried taking the Keep. We were surrounded for five days until orks from Brokebone arrived and took back the gate. Pushed them back through the wall. But we didn't know at the time reinforcements were on their way. Didn't know if we even had a reason for fighting other than survival. I guess, when it comes down to it, there aren't many other reasons to fight. No reasons worth shit anyway. The Black Blades had three mages and a cleric. All we had were my master and me. And what good was I? I was still struggling to read a spell, let alone cast one. And there I was, the only fucking thing between three Ruleist mages and the men who depended on us.”

“It's not the same,” Nysta insisted. “You didn't have to make a choice.”

“No,” he agreed. “I didn't. I had to make a million. Every fucking day. Choice after choice. Do I bother to put up a fucking ward here, or there? Or, because I'm too fucking tired, do I just forget one of them? And guess what, Long-ear? I forgot more than one. I forgot seventeen of the fuckers. I remember that exact number because every time I forgot, they cut through the walls and killed dozens of men. Others were horribly mutilated. The lucky ones died later. So, you could say I'm responsible for more than a few hundred deaths in one way or another. But I don't sit around snivelling about it. Know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I did my fucking best. And that's that. I'm not Grim. I'm not a fucking god. I did my best, and no amount of fucking crying in the wind is going to bring those soldiers back. They died, Long-ear. But without me, many more would have died. You reckon choosing to attack the soldiers was the weaker choice? Well, for me, it's fucking impressive. Fifteen armed men? In armour? Fuck that shit. Even now, with what I know, they'd still probably cut me to ribbons. And I'm sure it wasn't as easy as you make it sound,” he rubbed his hands together and struggled to keep his blanket from falling to the ground.

She toyed with one of the strips of cloth in her hair. Looked at it. The fragment had a small spot of blood on the corner. She remembered the feel of the sword ripping into her cheek.

At the time it went in, she thought she was dead.

Thought the blade had gone through her mouth and into her brain.

But she was lucky. He'd slipped in a sodden patch of gore and died hard, choking on
A Flaw in the Glass
. The joy she'd felt coursing cleanly through her veins as his life fled was swiftly erased when she heard the first scream.

Talek's scream.

And she'd run. So fast. But she couldn't run fast enough. Leaping the small courtyard wall. Sliding through the shattered remains of the palace's gates.

Seeing the bodies of Talek's men sprawled like roasted pigs.

Blood everywhere.

Stepping on something wet. Looking down in horror at strips of melted flesh flayed from his body.

Talek. Writhing as magefire consumed him.

Still screaming.

And at his feet, the mage she'd figured someone else would kill. Well, now they'd killed him. Only, the wounds left would scar not only her husband, but her soul.

Time and time again she dreamt the dream of running that race. Running until she woke, lungs seared and throat raw from screaming.

Angrily, the elf scrubbed at the fresh tears threatening to burn the corners of her eyes. “You don't know shit,” she growled.

“Actually,” he leaned back, balancing lazily on the horse. “I know shit when I smell it. And it smells pretty fucking bad coming from you. You're feeling sorry for yourself. Now, I understand you feeling like shit because your husband was cut down by a bunch of assholes. Understand you want revenge and all that. But this self pity? I don't get it. It isn't you. Or is it? I misjudge you, Long-ear? That tough exterior of yours, is it all for show? You actually all gooey in the middle? A whining emotional – dare I say it? - little girl pretending to be something she's not?”

Her hand trembled in fury, hovering over
Go With My Blessing
. An inch away from tearing it free and sending the blade streaking through the air to ventilate his head.

“Reckon you should quit flapping your mouth now,” she said, her voice dropping through the air like chips of glass.

“You do, do you?” the spellslinger sat straighter, grabbing a fistful of mane to keep from falling. “Truth is always hard to swallow, right? You thought you'd get pity from me? Maybe I'd see you as a damaged little waif just trying to make her way? Well. I've got news for you, Long-ear. You're not the only one who had a shit life and got fucked for it. You're not the only one who lost someone. But seems to me you've two choices in life. You can either swallow that self pity, or keep spitting at yourself in the mirror. Which one are you going to do?”

Go With My Blessing
was cool in her hand as her fingers squeezed around the handle. The snarl in the back of her throat, however, died quickly as she fought for and won control.
 

Her eyes flashed in his direction before she shot her gaze back to the path twisting through the army of lifeless trees. Caught the smell of something sour on the wind and wrinkled her nose. Her fingers loosened their grip on the tether.

“Might be right,” she allowed through tight lips. “But you want to be careful, spellslinger. I ain't in the mood for any kind of intervention. So shut it, uh?”

“That's it, girl,” he sighed. “Keep spitting. But it's
your
face you're getting wet. And all that venom's likely to eat through it quicker than a fireball. Might be a bright side, though. At least you'd have an excuse for being ugly. Although, you'll have to wear a mask to stop frightening children. If you don't wear one already.”
 

The elf scratched the palm of her hand and allowed the corner of her lip to curl dangerously up toward the scar.  

An emotion she couldn't identify, but which was akin to both fear and excitement, sliced neatly up her guts before drilling warmly into her skull.

“I got no regrets,” she said. “Now, if you've finished playing with words, spellslinger, you might like to open that book of yours to reveal a different kind of truth, if you get me?”

“What? Nysta, I was only joking,” he paled, awkwardly fumbling with his grimoire and nearly dropping it into the snow.

Realising he'd mistaken her meaning, the elf shook her head. Gave him a firm glance. “Mean it's time for a duet, not a duel. You could be right. Maybe I ate it all and spat it out. But we got no time to chew on doubts right now. So you keep your advice for the fellers in Doom's Reach and summon up some of that old black magic,” she spat as she powered off the horse to hit the ground running. Slapped her hand to
Entrance Exam
and sent the slim blade screaming through the trees with an efficient underarm throw. “Because out here, we do it my way.”
 

CHAPTER TEN

A yelp of pain exploded from the shadows behind the trees as the blade sank deep into flesh.

Following the blade, the elf was a blur of movement. She skipped over a splintered branch without slowing. Spun around the trunk of one tree, dislodging ice, and hissed as she filled her fists with
A Flaw in the Glass
and
Fulci's Last Joke
.
 

“Wait!” a voice shouted. A big voice. Heavy and booming, but echoing with pain. “Stop! I don't want to fight.”

“Get out here, then,” the elf said through her teeth. “And keep your hands where I can see them.”

“You've fucking killed me!”

“At best, I tickled your shoulder. At worst, I put a hole in it. And, ten seconds from now I'll be using your skull for a beer mug if you don't get the fuck out here right now!”

The figure lumbered tentatively out of the shadows, looming over her like a massive gorilla. Chukshene sucked air as he caught sight of the ork, and even Nysta felt a thrill of fear.

He was bigger than any ork she'd ever seen. Each arm looked thicker than her torso and with one swipe he could break one of the horses in half.

The muscle rippling over his body made him look heavily armoured. As though nothing could hurt him. His face couldn't have gotten uglier if he fell on it, and with the heavy jaw and swollen brow he looked like the meanest creature in the whole of the Deadlands.

The jutting dagger embedded in his bicep looked no more life-threatening than a splinter, but he inched forward with the look of someone about to fall over and die. The thin trickle of blood dribbled down his arms and dusted the snow with red.

The elf shook her head, amazed that such a creature could look so brutal, yet so cowardly at the same time.

“What'd you do that for?” he moaned. “I didn't fucking do anything!”

“Anyone else in there?” the elf lifted her enchanted blade, keeping the point aimed at his eye.

He sniffed. “I look like someone who likes company?”

“Then what were you doing?”

“Waiting for you to go the fuck past! What else? Why'd you stick me? Grim's fucking eyes, this hurts. Is it poisoned? Have you poisoned me, elf? It feels poisoned. I can feel it burning!”

She kept his wounded gaze for a moment, before deciding he was probably a lot more harmless than he looked. “Let me see,” she stepped forward, suddenly bold. Slid her blades back into their sheaths and reached up. Had to stand on her toes to reach. Grabbed the jutting handle and jerked it free.

A quick spray of warm blood arced across the ground with a dull splatter.

“What the fuck?” the ork howled, dancing back in pain. He looked like he couldn't decide whether to run at her, or away. But seemed to prefer backing away. “Fuck! Why'd you do that?”

She ran the knife through the snow to clean it before sliding it into its sheath. Shrugging, she moved back to her horse. “I wanted it back.”

“Poor fucker,” Chukshene sighed. “You going to apologise to him?”

“What for?”

“You just put a knife in his arm.”

“So? He shouldn't have been skulking around the fucking path, should he?”

Vaulting onto the horse, she ignored its nervous whinny and urged it forward. Stamping the snow, the horse trotted forward, eager to be away from the fresh scene of violence.

The ork tore a strip of cloth from his shirt, muttering as he wrapped his wound. He looked up as they slowly moved past. “Hey!” he called. “You heading to Spikewrist?”

“Yeah,” Chukshene had to twist around to face him. “It far from here?”

“Well,” he tugged at the ragged mop of reddish hair. “Kinda. But I wouldn't go there if I were you. Not if you paid me a thousand gold pieces.”

The elf wheeled her horse. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” the ork scowled at her and gently patted his wound. “I ain't so sure I wanna tell you shit.”

“I'm sure I wanna pin your other fucking arm, though,” she countered.

“Alright, alright,” he lifted his good arm in defence. “No need to be so fucking hostile. Shit, Long-ear. You rile easy.”

The spellslinger shot her a disgusted look and held his hand out in a peaceful gesture to the morose-looking ork. “Let's start again, shall we? I'm Chukshene, and this foul-tempered excuse for an elf is Nysta. She's having a hard week. Her husband was murdered and she's chasing his killers. Makes her a bit tetchy. Also, she doesn't look to be much of a morning person.”

“Killed her mate, huh? Well. Guess that'd piss most people off,” the ork said as he squatted in the snow. Crossed his massive arms over his knees. Though he spoke to the mage, he kept his gaze cautiously trained on the nonchalant elf. “Name's Rockjaw. Folks at Spikewrist named me that. Had a name before, but I don't want it no more.”

“What was it?”

“You ain't from the Deadlands, are you, spellchucker?” The ork grunted, scratching his scalp.

“No. Here by accident. Well. It's hard to explain.”

“No one uses their real name in these parts. Only folks out here are smugglers, thieves and fugitives. Fugitives from the law. Or from life? It don't matter. Criminals, all. Lowest of the low. This is why they call it the Deadlands. We're all dead. That right, ain't it, elf? Just don't got the sense to lie down. Look around, spellchucker. This place is a fucking cemetary.”

“It's not that bad.”

“Ain't that bad?” the ork barked a bitter laugh. “You blind as well as fucked in the head? Grim and Rule fought for a thousand years all over this place. The ground ain't sand here, spellchucker. It's the ashes of the dead. Too many soldiers fought here. Too many died. Always it's the soldiers who die. Couldn't bury them all, so they burned their bodies to keep the ground flat enough to keep fighting on. That's officer thinking, right there. But if you look closely, you can sometimes see teeth. And worse. Don't believe me? Look to the trees, spellchucker. Look to the trees and weep if you got feelings.”