When Elves Die : Episode One (2 page)

He somersaulted again from the top of the wagon and
landed on his feet, swinging the dagger around. But he misjudged
his momentum and fell face first into the dirt.

“Sorry, buddy.” Zinna howled with
laughter. “But you have a
loooong
way to go.”

Xavian got up and dusted himself off. Then he looked
to the left to make sure Kelroar didn't see him. He would never
want to be embarrassed in front of his mentor. The man and warrior
he had so much wanted to be like.

But Kelroar no longer stood in front of the church.
Zinna noticed Xavian's concern and followed his eyeline to the
empty street.

“Where did he go?”

“I think he went inside,” said Xavian. “You know. It
is confidential stuff they're talking about.”

“Maybe he'll leave us,” Zinna said. “Why should he
be burdened with two orphaned thieves.”

“He won't leave us. He's a man of his word. What he
says, he does.”

“But he never says much.”

“He's probably talking about strategy, getting more
information from the church elders. That's what adventurers do.
Warriors don't go into the wilderness blind. Kelroar will figure
out the best strategy, prepare and then complete the mission.”

“You talk about him as if he can do no wrong. He
wants to go to the mountains. The Wilmorn Mountains, no less, and
find some crazy ass cleric that has disappeared. Who cares? This
tribe can do with one less holy man ranting and raving about
Pegasin.”

“This is not just any cleric. It is Zanfire the
Brazen.”

“I don’t believe in any of that stuff,” Zinna
said.

“He has healed the sick, cured the blind, and made
cripples get up and dance! And if Kelroar thinks he is worth
finding and saving, so be it.”

“No man or elf has a direct line to the Gods. That
includes Zanfire and whoever else.”

“I've heard him speak. His words touched my heart
and stoked my warrior spirit. He inspired me to become a hero to
the elves that I'm destined to be.”

Zinna stuck her finger in her mouth and pretended to
gag.

A group of four teenagers, all dressed in ragged
tunics came up to the wagon. They stroked the marble siding and
marveled at the posh looking interior with silk cushions.

“You never seen a wagon before?” Zinna asked.

“Are you guys with Kelroar the Champion?” the
smallest of the teens asked.

“Why yes. And you can talk to that guy to join his
fan club.” Zinna nodded over at Xavian.

“You guys work for him?”

“We fight
alongside
him,” Xavian said,
sticking his chest out. “Call it an apprenticeship.”

“Yeah? What's so special about you?”

“Kelroar is an excellent judge of character. He saw
something in me that he saw in himself many years ago.”

One of the teens reached down and tried to pet the
wolf. Jamben greeted the gesture with a guttural growl.

“Don't do that. Jamben doesn't like to be petted
like a dog. He's a soldier on duty. You show him respect.” Xavian
bowed in the direction of the wolf.

Zinna rolled her eyes.

“We heard Kelroar was half-man, half-wolf,” the
smallest one asked. “We saw him walk into the church with the
elders. Can't really tell from far away.”

“Can't tell what?” Zinna asked.

“If he has, you know, wolf qualities.”

“Your grasp on history is correct,” chimed in
Xavian. “A sorcerer named Davroar conjured him up. Used a dead
barbarian and a dead wolf and cast a spell to fuse their fighting
spirits together. He wanted to create a master race of fighters. A
tribe of warriors with the intelligence of man and the ferocity of
a wolf. Or maybe it was the other way around. I forgot.”

Finally the biggest of the bunch chimed in: “So
what, does his shit get stuck to his ass because of his fur?”

The four boys laughed until they saw Kelroar exit
the church.

“Why don't you guys try asking him yourself?”

The teens scattered in different directions as they
saw the large warrior trudging straight toward them.

“You shouldn't brag so much,” Zinna whispered.
“Kelroar said to lay low, so we lay low. Here you are showing off
every time you get an audience.”

“I can't help it. I have plenty to brag about. I was
an orphan, a thief, a nobody. Now that I am with Kelroar, I am
somebody. If it weren't for him, I'd be dead. And this whole
village would be slaves under Dark Queen rule. Or maybe something
worse. Maybe killed by dragons. Or captured by humans for use in a
carnival. They'd throw us in pit with wild orcs and watch us get
ripped apart for their entertainment.”

“I wish I was a part of his entertainment,” Zinna
said as Kelroar approached with the cleric Ricmorn. Kelroar's
muscular arms popped from under his sleeveless armor.

“He's a warrior and a champion,” Xavian said. “He's
above that sort of thing.”

“No man is above this sort of thing,” Zinna offered
as she lowered her blouse to show off her cleavage.

Xavian went into a mock stare.

“That's a weakness I'm working on myself,” he said
as she punched him in the arm.

Ricmorn carried a large brown satchel and walked
with a hitch in his step. A light blue hood covered his bald head
and he did not have any eyebrows. His gray eyes peeked like slits
from their puffy chambers as he appraised the young duo.

“Watch,” whispered Zinna as she anticipated what the
two men would say to them. “We're going to have to go through the
mountains of Wilmorn and rescue some half-baked cleric who has
probably been eaten by dragons by now.”

“Sounds fun to me,” Xavian said. “I mean where else
do you have to go? You can work in a tavern and slave over tables
or you can have adventure!”

“Who do we have here?” Ricmorn extended his hand
toward Xavian.

“Xavian the Brave”, said the young elf whose facial
expression quickly changed from a smile to a frown as he felt the
sweaty palm of the cleric.

“And what is this?” Ricmorn stared at Zinna’s
breasts without shame.

“I'm Zinna,” she said, looking over at Xavian as if
to say 'see what I mean?'

“Do exercise the utmost of caution,” said Ricmorn,
snapping out of his lustful train of thought. “The mountains of
Wilmorn are filled with all kinds of treachery and danger. Some are
legends and myth. Others are all too real. There are thieves. Orcs.
Crazed hermits and sorcerers. But you are in good hands with
Kelroar here.”

“Thank you,” Kelroar said.

“Inside you'll find various meats,” Ricmorn heaved
the satchel onto the wagon. “Beef and boar. You have quite a trip
ahead and you'll need plenty of nourishment. There is wild boar the
further up you go and they should suffice nicely if you run out of
food.”

Kelroar took his seat atop the wagon. He reached
over and grasped the reins on the stallions.

Ricmorn turned his attention from the young people
back to the barbarian.

“I pray that you find our brother. I pray that he is
okay. The Lord Pegasin will bestow his blessings upon you.”

Kelroar looked to his young charges.

“Let's go,” he said.

The two teens climbed into the wagon. Kelroar
snapped on the reins and the horses galloped forward.

“You will do the tribe of Kevfire proud!” Ricmorn
waved goodbye.

Jamben jolted up, yawned, and followed the
wagon.

The chalk colored castle looked like a tombstone in
the sky. Tholan knew what it looked like from his nightmare. That
is what unnerved him about this job. For all his warrior code and
ethos, supernatural elements gave him pause because he had such
limited exposure to it.

How could Ravalynn communicate with him
telepathically? She appeared to him in a dream, telling him of the
pain she saw in his eyes. A pain she understood.

He heard of the Dark Queen's legend. How she could
find you in your thoughts. Expose secrets that you did not know you
had.

“You have nothing to fear from me,” she said,
wearing nothing but a snake around her neck. “Unless you fear
pain.”

He awoke in a cold sweat.

“Magic,” he whispered to himself. “Damn it all to
hell.”

Directions to her castle sat on his bedside table.
The Dark Queen required his service.

Tholan found the quiet of the forest unsettling.
There were no sounds of insects, birds, or other animals which
would lessen his sense of foreboding. A haunting silence surrounded
him. Even the wind had no noise as it brushed over the grass and
leaves.

Tethering his horse to a pole, he approached the
castle. The main gates were decorated with carvings of goblins
attacking elves. Large torches fired up instantly as he stepped
closer. The flames lit up knockers made of onyx stone. They were
carved in the shape of a crow's head.

Tholan reached for the knocker but the gates opened
on their own. He could feel someone watching him. He looked at the
windows and saw only darkness.

An old lady appeared to greet him. Wearing all black
with a veil over her face, she shuffled forward in small steps.

Tholan saw that her veil concealed a rotting
travesty of warts and boils. At least one hundred summers old, the
woman moved feebly but with purpose. Candlelight from the wall
reflected in her eyes.

Eyes that had the patience of the dead.

“Tholan the Hunter?” Her voice rasped like sandpaper
over stone.

“Of course.”

“The Dark Queen requires that you remove all
weaponry before you enter her chambers. It is for her safety.”

“Unfortunately, I cannot comply,” he said. “Tholan
does not unarm himself... for his own safety.”

He heard the sound of nails scraping on stone. There
were two tiers in the castle foyer. Killtooths emerged on the
second level, surrounding him. With yellow eyes full of malice,
they looked ready to pounce with jaws filled with sharp teeth. They
had lizard like wings attached from their elbows to their waist.
Tholan counted twenty of them but he could take them all on if need
be.

As long as he had his weapons.

“There's more of them,” the old lady said. “In case
you're wondering.”

“I came here in good faith,” said Tholan. “From far
away. Too bad we cannot do business.”

Tholan turned back around. Before he could take one
step, the old lady appeared in front of him.

“The Dark Queen means you no disrespect,” she said.
“But please reconsider. Fifty thousand gold pieces. It is just our
rule. That no one be armed in her presence. We have had, shall we
say, incidents.”

“Fifty thousand?” asked Tholan.

The old lady lifted up a satchel. She reached inside
and dropped some of the coins to the floor.

The gold pieces shined in the darkness.

“You will have no incident here,” he said.

Tholan removed his sword from its sheath and a
dagger from his boot, laying them on the ground.

“Anything else?” she asked.

“No,” he replied.

“Hold your arms out please.”

Tholan paused for a few seconds and then
complied.

“Sorry, but we have to be sure.”

The old lady frisked his body with agonizing
slowness. Her icy fingers moved across his belly, thighs and
buttocks. He stiffened as he felt her scarred and calloused hands
move across his groin.

“You are one built barbarian,” she hissed. “Ravalynn
always had exquisite taste.”

Satisfied, she walked ahead of Tholan. He followed
warily, keeping an eye on the Killtooths who were watching his
every move. One of them spat in his direction. The others shrieked
and hissed.

The old lady inserted a large skeleton key into the
lock, turned it six times, then opened the door. She stepped aside
as Tholan entered the private chamber. It had a large window in the
back with a slab table in the center.

The door slammed shut behind him.

Tholan walked through the chamber listening to the
echo of his boots. A large vase sat in the center of the room. Made
of marble, it stood about seven feet tall.

“The biggest urn you've ever seen right?”

Ravalynn emerged from the darkness. She had the kind
of body men often dream about but never see. Wearing a dark blue
dress, her ample cleavage covered only by a necklace of marble
pendants. Her jet black hair took on a purple hue when she stepped
into the moonlight.

“I collected the ashes of my soldiers that were
killed by the elves last summer. The elves of Kevfire. They came
into my caves. Torched my creations.”

“You eat them for dinner,” Tholan said. “They are
protecting themselves.”

“Whose side are you on?” Ravalynn said.

He felt her eyes penetrate into his thoughts. His
soul.

“The side that pays me.”

“And you took your damn sweet time to get here. You
were supposed to be here days ago.”

“There was a blizzard. I had to camp and wait it
out. And I saw the end result of your last siege. Your creations
devoured a group of missionaries. I can only guess they were of the
Kevfire tribe.”

“Indeed,” the Dark Queen said. “And you will assist
me in exterminating their race.”

CHAPTER 3

The Dark Queen led Tholan into a chamber lit only by
a wall-mounted candelabra.

A large onyx colored, liquid filled sphere stood at
the center of the room.

She waved her hand in a circular motion over the
sphere. The liquid inside the globe vortexed into a kaleidoscope of
dark colors; black, purple and dark blue.

Tholan shuddered as the liquid coalesced into a view
of the mission camp massacre he stumbled upon earlier.

He saw the body of the woman he killed. Hyenas and
ravens picked the flesh away from her snow covered limbs.

“You showed mercy,” the Dark Queen said. “You were
instructed to leave no witnesses-”