Vampiris Sancti: The Elf (38 page)

The Elders of
the magical realm were well known for their lack of protection for
those off world unless they perceived a consistent attack against
their kind. In the case of magical creatures constantly persecuted
they would dispatch a Fairy—their magical assassin—to remove the
threat. If the threat was against more than one magical being then
a Cartoc was deployed. This unit of Fairies was feared throughout
the Reveal, with their ability to decimate even a group of Varkja.
The problem with a Cartoc was the unfortunate after effects where
the entire unit became self destructive from stress of the
violence. The slight gleam in her dark eyes let the Elf know that
she had penetrated the arrogance of the Martyc.

Zyre pressed
her point home. “You need to leave this world for it be well
defended and tis one thing to have Martyc hunt you, but another to
have everyone.”

The moment had
gone and Taryst Janeb was not to be intimidated again as she gave
Zyre a contemptuous look.

“What an
unlikely happening, an Elf claiming a world as her own, but then
Elves don’t claim worlds do they? Surely you are not stupid enough
to claim the Xatn—the prince you have no right to?”

She couldn’t
help herself and her gaze followed the Martyc’s across the roof
until she found Vryn fighting side by side with the head of his
security. They made a formidable team falling into the natural
rhythm of two who have fought many battles before. They dispatched
all who came to them, and as she gazed upon the one who would
declare her as his the world once again stretched into a silent
moment while the battle faded. Their connection alive again had
Vryn look into the distance until his eyes touched hers as the rasp
of his breath became still, until all she could hear was the wild
beating of his heart raging in her ears. The air became fluid and
she became lost in his essence until a shout had him turn his eyes
to the one beside her—severing their link as a sudden blast of fury
infused his face.

Zyre turned to
Taryst and the smirk of triumph upon her face was meant to incense
the Elf as the Martyc remarked, “He must not all be yours because
his eye wanders, perhaps if he were truly obsessed....”

The Elf yawned
but her soul prickled. “He is in the middle of a little
inconvenience and he does what is expected.”

The attempt at
feigning unconcern didn’t fool the shrewd bandit and she laughed
scornfully. “Yes he is but his eye wanders to me—not you. There you
go pretending you matter to him. He is a demon of the Empire and
his place is with his own kind and not some inconsequential fluff
who brings no honour to him. You are not of his world or of his
status, so leave him to those who understand his position.”

Her ruby lips
curved into the smile that Vampire, Oric, and Varkja knew well, the
one that was a precursor to Elf mischief. No longer did the
assertions of Taryst bother her for nothing motivated an Elf more
than someone telling she couldn’t have something. Elves saw the
universe as their own playground and the decision Zyre made might
not have been a conscious one, but it was definitely a response to
a demon attempting to limit her.

“He be one who
makes his own choices—including that of bride, so tis you that has
no reason to be here.”

While Zyre did
not intend to become his bride the unexpected shards of emotion
entered her life once again. She felt a strange satisfaction when
she felt the burn of Taryst at her taunt. The Martyc swiftly
recovered because she was still a daughter of the Empire that
created her.

“You don’t have
the strength or the discipline to be at his side. Making this claim
is nothing but Elf nonsense that no one will take seriously.”

This time Zyre
was angry as the bandit was brimming with demon arrogance.

“I claim all of
them—human, demon, Vampire, so get your Raiders off this world
before I kill the lot.”

Her words once
spoken ensured her intent was real because while the Raiders would
not attack her then she could ensure she appeared at enough
inopportune moments to be able to employ the Salvae—if she had the
energy. To her luck Taryst was not well acquainted with magical
properties to know the limits of the Elf. She gave her magical
nemesis the benefit of her arctic stare while she weighed the
threat. Then, as if Zyre’s interaction satisfied some hidden
criteria, the demon surprised the Elf by giving her a knowing smile
that was not echoed in her cold dark eyes.

“He’ll never be
yours because you haven’t got what it takes to be his princess. An
Elf cannot understand his needs. Or why he will always put duty
before her. He serves the Empire and it will always come
first—always before you!”

Gathering her
cloak about her she suddenly blew upon a shrill whistle startling
all present before vanishing back into the dark. Zyre didn’t chase
her because she didn’t have the energy and instead dissolved, not
back to Vryn, but across the street to stand beside Florian Ribeni.
She was exhausted and burdened by the strange emotions that had
tugged at her while she was threatening Taryst. This strange
interior compiled with the bloody exterior had Zyre too
uncomfortable to return to the prince.

They stood
together, an incongruous couple their faces grim with knowledge
neither wished to own, as they watched the hasty retreat of the
Raiders while the Varkja killed those who lagged behind. Florian’s
anger weighed upon the air as his frown twitched at the last
moments of fighting. Zyre, on the other hand, couldn’t identify the
electricity of emotion that clung to her. One so basic that even
the Vampire beside her could have explained the logistics of
jealousy.

Chaos
Magic

Demons,
struggling within and without in a hostile universe, had always
been jealous of the magical believing their lives to be one of ease
and indulgence. This vein of thought also had them ponder the
enigma of one of their own—the demon Lazulul whose lack of query
into their semi-magical abilities they considered deviant.

Frustrated by
one who refused to investigate the nature of what appeared to be
magical abilities and a universe that seemed to grant power to the
least worthy of them demons spent centuries trying to acquire
attributes they deem wasted upon neurotic pointless beings. This
bitter relentless search had every source of power investigated,
every corner of the Reveal examined for any method that could
elevate the demon into enjoying the attributes of a magical being.
One of the discoveries during demonic travel was of strange
creatures, neither magical nor demonic, that could employ magic to
obtain some sort of goal. These beings of witchery background had
protected themselves vigorously from assault and their frightening
world remained untainted from demonic invasion. From a secure
distance the would-be conquerors observed the somewhat magical
beings who had managed to acquire enough knowledge to disrupt the
flow of energy in their world, causing their skills to be labelled
Chaos Magic.

Called the
Kheleyk, this nation of a myriad of shapes appeared to be similar
to that other oddity of the Reveal—the human realm. With various
colours and sizes the Kheleyks annoyed demon eyes used to
identifying peoples by their uniform similarity. It was the Kheleyk
women that attracted the most interest as in the tradition of
shaman and charlatan they had managed to acquire a haphazard
supernatural knowledge. Using sigils to cast spells, since their
abilities were not organic like the magical, or steeped in esoteric
knowledge of the Mages, they were magicians manipulating the
elements. They created illusions, fracturing the fragile and
confusing those obsessed.

The witches,
once finding their new demon audience was enthralled by their
abilities, wasted no time employing the demons own ethos against
them and soon exploited the exploitable. Chaos Magic, for all its
smoke and mirrors, couldn’t hinder the natural abilities of magical
creature nor even do a poor emulation as this skill only produced
an unruly result leaving pandemonium in its wake. When faced with
Chaos Magic the magical creature would usually abscond somewhere
calm because while this magic couldn’t harm them—it could harm
those surrounding and even damage the environment. If the unruly
witch was foolish enough to threaten their magical counterpart,
then they usually discovered that violence was an action demons did
not solely own and that the Seal offered them no protection.

Once firmly put
in their place by the magical world the Kheleyk adjourned behind
their veil of secret yearnings keeping their transactions to
distraction and confusion. Never quite achieving the perfect
balance between their power and their reality the spells often left
more disorder in their wake than achieving the desired outcome. The
reputation of the witches had them become unpopular visitors and so
the majority of their interactions occurred in dark corners of dark
worlds where the presence of increased dissonance was not greatly
noticed by the inhabitants. The demons that didn’t have the muscle
of the Varkja or the influence of the Martyc soon came to the
realisation that they required the extra edge that only Chaos could
bring to an interaction. They discovered a race that looked human,
acted demon, and enjoyed the vices of both while embracing the
magical lack of accountability. For one seeking to destabilise a
situation the Kheleyk, for a substantial fee, were very happy to
provide their erratic and problematical assistance.

The main issue
with a Kheleyk spell was that those who cast them had not bothered
to refine their skills and learn basic points such as how to remove
it. Chaos magic had been known to rage for months decimating all in
its wake causing the inhabitants to turn to the few who might be
able to return balance to their world. The powerful sorcerers the
Mages of Sor, or the magical, despite their disjointed natures,
were those that could return a world back to its natural state.
While the magical had never investigated the instigation of Chaos,
since it would be logical that creatures with internal chaos might
not care to seek external like, they could remove it. The problem
with approaching the magical world was getting not only a coherent
answer, but convincing them actually to turn up to do the deed. The
Mages, while more agreeable to help, were harder to find as their
only approachable locale appeared to be the Markets of Prakiesh. At
first it was easy to persuade magical beings to attend to Chaos
magic mishaps as most of them suffered an excess of curiosity. This
was soon replaced with aloof disinterest after encountering Chaos
magic used willy-nilly all over the Reveal.

The Kheleyk
once flinging their spell onto a hapless world never stayed to view
the ruin they had contrived. Instead they returned to their barren
corner of the universe long destroyed by their magical
ineptitude—where they lived amongst the ruins of their own hubris.
There were those who believed their quick exit was to prevent an
encounter with a true magical being that was not above removing
their ability to function for amusement. The Kheleyk retreated as
surreptitiously as they had appeared, unrepentant, ignorant, and
fully convinced that they were the true guardians of
enchantment.

*********

Destiny has
two ways of crushing us—by refusing our wishes and by fulfilling
them.

Henri Frederic
Amiel

Zyre kept her
eyes firmly upon Vryn for he had commanded so much of her energy
this night. It was not just in battle, as his essence had invaded
her soul to compel her attention. He looked no more than a bit
unsettled from the hours of fighting and if she had known it barely
touched his inner reserves then she might have been less vigilant
in guarding his safety. The Varkja, also showing little effects
from the battle, leapt into the street disappearing into the dawn
leaving the Aegai to their cleanup. The air was thick with death
and it coated her mind as the ashes of the departed swirled across
her feet. The atmosphere still held the emotions of the battle as
if engraved into the world and she fought to remain aloof from the
despair of knowledge. The kaleidoscope of her eyes swirled through
blues as she separated herself from the grief of loss because she
needed to stay focused and on task for this was far from over.

Unlike the
demons Zyre was fatigued as the several Salvae and constant
dissolves consumed her energy, even though she had replenished
herself. The reality was that she required a longer rest between
shimmers and Salvae used a huge amount of her reserves. She didn’t
wait to watch the cleanup because her biology had demands that
needed immediate attention, so she grabbed Beb and faded into a
slow dissolve while her eyes never once left the burning coals of
the Martyc.

This hadn’t
been her first battle as the edges of aggression had touched her
before, something she had witnessed in her initial journeys off
world. In her explorations she came across mindless violence, which
first fascinated then appalled until she reached for magical
unconcern—the Elf tool for survival. It was the experience that had
her leave worlds exploding with passion for that first blooding was
where her innocence had allowed her to be drawn into battle, which
finally taught her the value of indifference. She chose the wrong
side for every side was wrong where blood was spilled and as they
celebrated victory—she could taste only the cinders of lost
innocence. From that moment she was careful never to get involved,
never care, and never be a part of the bloodshed until an annoying
Martyc had dragged her down with him. At least the world had been
protected from the ravages of Chaos magic because if the Kheleyk
had managed to set the realm off kilter it would have taken the
strength of both her and Beb—maybe more—to set it right. That would
have left the rest of them open to the attack of the Raiders and
their worthless mistress, Taryst Janeb. Her name set Zyre’s teeth
on edge and she dissolved across town—chasing the tail of an inner
fury.