When Elves Die : Episode One (3 page)

“I killed the only survivor.”

“Only after she attacked you,”
she
said.

Tholan watched as that scene replayed on the
globe.

“She had suffered enough.”

“You showed compassion,” Ravalynn said. “The Tholan
of a few years ago would have never entertained such thoughts. A
barbarian that embraces pity?”

She wiped her hand across the globe again. The
sphere vortexed into a purple liquid before coalescing into a scene
from a burning village. Tholan recognized his younger self in the
scene. He sliced down elf after elf with sword and dagger. The
screams of his victims grew in volume from the sphere as it
replayed various events from Tholan's barbaric past.

“This is you at your best.”

Tholan's lips parted as if he were about to say
something but the words did not come. He could only watch in awe at
his ferocious younger self.

“I have seen a great many hunters and killers,” the
Dark Queen said. “No one in history has had your resolve, tenacity
and ruthlessness. Yet you changed over time. The thrill of your
kills was replaced by a bottomless need for money. You didn't
realize that it was this lack of need that made you powerful. You
took what you wanted but then reduced yourself to a man who only
needed. You became...a servant. A servant to the highest
bidder.”

Tholan turned his back on the sphere as it replayed
scenes from his dealings with rich men. He became their hired help.
Their slave labor.

Cries of agony grew louder from the globe. He
covered his ears with the palms of his hands. Convinced that his
senses were playing tricks on him, he closed his eyes as tightly as
he could.

“You can pretend that all of this never happened.
But you can't undo what you did. And you should be proud of all the
pain you inflicted. Why you aren't begs the question. Why weren't
you proud of who you were? What killed the merciless Tholan of the
past? Who killed this great warrior who felt no pity?”

He turned around to look at her. She untied her
dress and the silk cloth made no noise as it fell to the floor.

Light from the candles danced across her bosom as
the Dark Queen approached him out of the shadows. She ran her hand
across his chest as she circled around him like a shark.

“Money makes you weak,” she whispered. “When you
were killing those people...Taking what you wanted...That was real
power... That fear you saw in the eyes of the enemy. Do you
remember what that felt like?”

The Dark Queen turned Tholan's head back toward the
globe. The sphere revealed all the violence he inflicted in his
world as she spoke.

“The power was in the killing of the men who hated
you. The power was in the violation of the women who thought they
were better than you. The burning of villages that never accepted
you. But for some reason, you gave in to their rules. You became an
assassin for hire. A utility for anyone willing to pay your cheap
price.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I want to know if the old Tholan is still in
there.” The Dark Queen traced her forefinger around the Barbarian's
heart. “Or was he killed without the use of a sword? That is what
Carella does to the men under her rule.”

“The Princess?”

“She is the bane of all of your problems,” she said.
“Her rule has been one where the men have become weak. Men who
relinquish their own desires for the sake of women. All you know is
that you need money to gain favor of women. That was the spell she
cast on you.”

“I have never encountered her. Only seen her once or
twice from afar.”

“She doesn't have to meet you to cast her curse. It
was done incrementally. You have the sword. But she and the women
under her rule...Have their beauty.”

The Dark Queen removed her bra and stood before him
with a seductive smirk. Running both hands through her lush black
hair, she twirled around slowly.

Tholan's gaze took in all of her perfection; her
breasts, the diamond piercings hanging from her navel and ears, the
raven tattooed on her lower back.

“Do you see what is happening? Who has the power
now? Your sword? Or my beauty?”

On “beauty” she pressed herself against his
chest.

“This is my power,” she whispered into his ear.

Feeling weak, he turned his attention to the globe.
He watched a scene where he took down three barbarians who attacked
him outside a tavern with steel maces and clubs. Tholan broke all
of their necks with his bare hands.

“That was one of the greatest nights of my
life.”

“You can become that barbarian again.” The Dark
Queen pulled away from him and ran her hand over the sphere
again.

“This is Carella's castle, Wandacove. It is heavily
fortified, as you might expect. She has the most highly trained
archers at the castle windows.”

The sphere showed bowmen shooting down enemy
invaders from afar.

“Her soldiers are strategically placed around the
castle according to their various skill level. Novices are placed
at the rear but even they can be dangerous. The castle entrance is
blocked by the best wrestlers and swordsmen in the land. Carella
has the best in everything. But with my army at your side we can
defeat them with willpower, fire and hate.”

A spell book appeared in the globe. The book opened
on its own, the handwritten contents fading on tattered brown
pages.

“That book is called the Arcanscape,” Ravalynn said,
her voice inflected with a sense of wonder. “It contains spells
that will allow me to create a whole new world. A world where
warriors like you no longer have to slave for dollars. A world of
order where the ruthless eat the weak.”

The Dark Queen waved her hand over the globe.

“And a world where barbarians are duly rewarded,”
she said.

The sphere revealed Tholan surrounded by lovely
young women. He sat on a throne of gold while one girl massaged his
shoulders. Another fed him grapes. Three other women performed a
strip tease while two more girls stood on opposite sides of him,
waving fans.

She circled her hand over the globe again. The black
sphere showed a large number of elves descending upon Wandacove. A
lot of them holding candles and appear to be singing a song.

“Every seven years, Carella comes out from the
castle and greets her followers. It is a two day festival of music
and she delivers a sermon. Every elf of the Pegasin religion will
come and make their pilgrimage there. It is then we shall strike.
They will be at their most vulnerable.”

“That's a lot of elves.”

“You take out the soldiers first. Eliminate their
army and the rest of the population will not even raise their
weapons.”

The door opened and the veiled old lady dragged in a
blindfolded, hog-tied elf. He struggled against the woman's grip
but she tossed him in with practiced ease.

The elf scrambled to get up. He rolled and shifted
his body sideways. Somehow, he managed to stand up on his knees as
the old lady ripped the blindfold off.

The elf's eyes darted around the room. His facial
expression turned from one of confusion to terror as he looked up
at Ravalynn.

The Dark Queen's eyes shifted into crimson slits.
Saliva dripped down the side of her mouth as she licked her lips.
She opened her mouth and revealed a pair of dagger-shaped
fangs.

The elf fell sideways. He caught the eye of Tholan
as he lay on the ground.

“Hey!” he yelled. “Don't let her do this! Do you
know what she is? She's a demon. They are all demons here!”

The Dark Queen ripped into the elf's neck with a
repressed hunger.

Her victim gurgled and convulsed as she sucked away
his life force. Elven blood had not touched her tongue in ages. She
moaned in delight from the taste.

Tholan turned his attention back to the dark sphere.
He put his hand on the globe.

The sphere revealed a hairy, muscular barbarian with
a deeply creased face.

“That's Kelroar.” The Dark Queen moved behind him,
wiping blood from her lips and licking it off her fingers. “He is
going to be the biggest obstacle you will face in the siege.”

“He's ugly.”

“That ugly thing is the best killer in the
land.”

“Not anymore,” he scoffed.

“Now there is the cocky Tholan that I fell in love
with watching,” she said as she pressed her naked chest against his
back.

His body shivered with pleasure as she wrapped her
arms around him. She then whispered a sequence of words into his
ear. They were words that Tholan would not understand even if he
heard them clearly.

It took only a few seconds for him to collapse under
her spell.

CHAPTER 4

The old lady dragged Tholan’s unconscious body to
the center of the dark chamber, his feet leaving a trail on the
dusty floor.

She carelessly dropped him to the ground and the
barbarian bounced off the floor with a meaty thud.

Lighting the candles one by one, the old lady gazed
upon the statue of a minotaur-like figure. It stood about eight
feet tall with horns curling out from the side of its head.

She bowed her head in veneration for several minutes
before returning to the body of Tholan.

With strength that belied her age, she picked the
barbarian up by his shoulders and heaved him on top of the altar,
laying him flat. The old woman then ripped open his tunic,
revealing his bare chest.

Tholan’s head lolled to the side and back again.

Ravalynn stepped into the room. She glided past the
old lady and stood above Tholan.

The old woman removed a goblet from the altar and
raised it above her head. Whispering a prayer, she placed the cup
down next to the barbarian.

Ravalynn raised a dagger high above her head. She
looked down at the barbarian's exposed chest and murmured
indecipherable words. Her chant grew louder until it reached a
shrill pitch that could freeze blood.

She closed her eyes and lowered the dagger, blindly
tracing the edge of the blade from Tholan's neck down to his
chest.

The old lady dipped her thumb into a vial of oil.
She applied it to the barbarian's forehead and chest, making a
circle and crossing it through in both places.

The candle flames blew out as the statue began
vibrating. The old lady looked on in awe as the sculpture began to
glow, illuminating the room in a purple light.

“Witness,” Ravalynn whispered into Tholan’s ear.
“The consequences of failure.”

The barbarian's eyes remained closed but his head
rolled from side to side.

The Dark Queen raised both of her arms to the side.
Tilting her neck back, her eyes rolled over white as if she were
becoming possessed.

Tholan’s head shook violently as if he were fighting
a desperate battle in his mind.

Moments later, he sprang up and screamed at the top
of his lungs.

Tholan’s eyelids fluttered and he dropped back down
on the slab. Sweat now soaked his tunic and his body writhed as if
it were on fire.

“There, there,” Ravalynn said. “That is only what
happens if your mission is met with failure. I have found fear to
be a great motivator.”

The Dark Queen ran her hands over his eyes.

“But see yourself as the victor. And you will not
fail.”

Tholan’s body went lax. His breathing became more
measured.

“I give you, Tholan.” The Dark Queen addressed the
minotaur-like statue. “He was the finest warrior in all of
Darksbane. He will retrieve the book of Arcanscape so I can restore
you to power. I will be the conduit for you to once again rule this
rotten earth.”

The candles burned off then on repeatedly as the
statue rocked back and forth.

“Tholan has murdered hundreds. He has given
lifetimes of grief to thousands. He will serve you well.”

Tholan’s body levitated off the slab.

Excited, the Dark Queen moved to the side of his
body and raised her dagger.

“I beg of you to possess his spirit,“ she said.
“Make him like he was. Heartless. Ruthless. Strong.”

She sliced the dagger across his chest. With expert
precision, she cut and carved the symbol of a pentagram into his
flesh. His blood dripped into the goblet.

The purple light grew brighter then faded out. The
statue stopped shaking.

After a moment, the candles flickered back to
life.

Tholan's eyes opened when he dropped back down on
the slab. His eyes adjusting to the dim light, his chest throbbed
in pain.

The barbarian looked down at his scarred pectorals
in confusion.

“I performed surgery on your spirit,” she said.
“Sympathy and compassion no longer reside in your heart. I cut all
of that poison out of you.”

Tholan sat up wearily and stood on his feet.

“You are once again Tholan the Feared.”

The barbarian gave her a searching glance. Still
confused, he walked over to the mirror at the side of the altar.
His tunic could now barely restrain the increased size of his
biceps and shoulders. Tholan marveled at his reflection and flexed
his rejuvenated muscles.

“You are as you once were,” she said. “A born again
butcher.”

The Dark Queen walked behind him and fingered the
scarred pentagram on his chest. No bleeding, no recent evidence of
what she had done. He would bear her cross of darkness forever.

“You will grow even stronger over the coming days,”
she said. “You will be able to fight for hours. Run for miles at
top speed. You will be impervious to pain. You will be
unstoppable.”

Needing no further encouragement, Tholan let loose
with an ear-splitting battle-cry.

CHAPTER 5
Zanfire the Brazen looked twenty years older than his actual age. A shock of white hair capped a face that bore wrinkles like a long forgotten raisin. Pale blue eyes matched the color of his ministerial robe and some elves joked that he looked like a walking snow cone.
Ten years ago, Zanfire took the religion of Pegasin to another level. He converted most of the Kevfire tribe within two years of his ascendance to the high priesthood. They called him Zanfire the Brazen because his words took the privileged royalty to task for their exploitation of the elven folk.
But the elves wanted miracles not words. Zanfire discovered that he had an ability to give the elves what they desired. He made a spectacle of healing the elven blind, deaf and ill. Detractors accused him of merely being a successful sorcerer. But his followers knew otherwise. Zanfire did not cast spells, they said. He had a direct link to the heavens.
But when Zanfire's wife became sick, his healing powers faded.  He could only watch as she withered away from a disease which had no name.  Immune to his healing touch, the disease claimed her life as well as his gift.
Zanfire began drinking heavily after her death. Elves who became aware of his alcoholism  referred to him as Zanfire the Wasted. Humiliated after failing to heal a blind elf at a revival, Zanfire's popularity dwindled.
He privately cursed his God Pegasin, wondering what sin he committed to have his heavenly gift taken away.
Zanfire had six bottles of liquor left. He hoped that the village of Turnbane had a tavern where he could purchase some beer sight unseen before his next performance.
Turnbane also had the reputation for having the toughest elves. He wanted to recruit some of their best fighters to give Graceonna some additional elf power.
He stumbled in the dark with a half empty bottle. Zanfire wanted to drink just a little more to get what he privately called his “happy buzz.”  He reached a stream and started to walk across a thick log to reach the other side. He slipped on the wood after a few steps, dropping his bottle into the moving creek.
“
Damn it all to hell!”
Zanfire looked ahead and saw that the campsite's fire was out. All were asleep in their tents. That's where he needed to be. But whenever he closed his eyes, all he could see was his wife. Then he would cry rather than sleep.
Heavy hooves approached from the west. He knelt down on the log and waited for the intruders to pass.
Black stallions raced by. They were not of his camp and the darkness prevented him from seeing who their riders were. He waited until they were out of sight and then trotted back  to the camp.
Zanfire saw Carella and Iangold in front of one of the tents. They spoke in hushed tones, so he sneaked around the bend to eavesdrop on their conversation.
He marveled at how Carella's blonde curls shined like summer wheat in the moonlight. Heart-breakingly beautiful, her voice sounded like sweet music. Her brown eyes were a mercurial pool of emotions. They sparkled with life and light.
He hated Iangold. Tall and gangly for an elf, he came from a wealthy family. He played down his moneyed origins by dressing in peasant clothing and keeping his hair long. Zanfire did not like his type and saw through the disguise.
“
He is an old fool,” Iangold said. “He is going nowhere and taking us with him.”
“
I was once on the wrong path,” Carella said softly. “But Zanfire guided me to the right one.”
“
You are blind,” Iangold argued. “He's irrelevant. You perform the miracles. He sits back and watches. And your miracles are not miracles. They are spells from the book of Arcanscape.”
“
Which I am using for good.”
“
Good for what, exactly? We've given up everything to follow this joker. I'm in a forest with beetles flying up my ass. Going where? Going to convert a village full of savages to believe in Pegasin?”
“
You knew what you were signing up for,” she said.
“
I did not know he was this bad,” Iangold said. “I can smell the alcohol on his breath from the back of the pew. We're following a crazy man on his way to hell.”
“
Stop it,” Carella interrupted. “He drinks to medicate himself. He thinks no one cares about him or anything else and he may be right. But despite all of that, he still tries and puts himself on the line.  That is the type of person I want to be. I cannot hide in a castle for the rest of my life and-”
“
Shhh...” Iangold interrupted. “Did you hear that?”
Carella turned around and looked into the dark.
Zanfire stood perfectly still, hiding behind the tent wall. He heard a rustling of leaves on the ground but thought it came from the arguing couple.
“
Probably a rabbit,” Carella turned her attention back to her boyfriend.
“
You are taking on burdens and sacrifices that you don't have to,” Iangold said. “We can travel to other parts of Darksbane. We can go to Brelynn and spend weeks in the luxury castle there. Or we can go to the Isle of Petben, dance on the beach and eat their delectable sea food. There is a whole world out there ready to be explored.”
“
I do not want a life of ease and comfort,” Carella said. “When I was sick and dying, Zanfire came and healed me. Something happened that night when he laid hands on me. I heard a calling. A voice that told me I was destined for something bigger than myself-”
Carella stopped in mid-sentence when she saw the two black stallions emerge behind Iangold. The loud whinny of the horse distracted her boyfriend from the Killtooth who tackled him to the ground.
Iangold's eyes widened like silver dollars as he tried to push the vampire elf off.
“
Help!” Carella screamed.
Iangold moved his head to the side to avoid the Killtooth's bite. Saliva dripped into his face and the guttural growl of the beast made his heart pound with panic.
The blonde princess sprang into action. She grabbed a handful of dirt from the ground and mumbled a hasty spell.
The beast squealed in pain as she threw the mud into its eyes.
“
Tell everyone to hide!” Zanfire emerged from behind the tent. “Stick together!”
The cleric had a dagger in hand and pounced on the blinded Killtooth.
Pulling back on the beast's ear with his left hand, Zanfire sawed off its head with his right.
The gurgling squeal of the Killtooth brought a chill to his spine.
“
The hell?” Gurkain, one of the stagehands, sprinted out of his tent holding a wooden club.
He never saw the Killtooth that jumped down on him from the tree. It latched onto his back and bit deep into his neck.
Gurkain bellowed in pain as he fell to his knees. He dropped his club as blood squirted from his wound.
“
Gurkain!” Carella screamed.
Distracted by the princess' cry, the Killtooth jumped off Gurkain and raced toward the blonde girl.
Carella sprinted for her life through the trees. The vampire elf flew from branch to branch, following her into the forest.
The princess ran for what seemed like miles. No longer hearing the Killtooth swinging through the trees above, she stopped to catch her breath.
The Killtooth jumped down from a branch and pushed Carella to the dirt. Then he held her down by her wrists, snarling in her face.
Carella twisted under his grip as she felt his member swelling against her thigh. His yellow eyes glistened with lust and hate.
Her nostrils filled with the hideous stench of his breath. She wanted to scream for help but gagged instead.
His slimy clutch unbreakable, the beast licked Carella's neck with its scaly tongue.  His saliva burned, making her eyes water in pain.
She heard a battle-cry and then a “snikt” sound. Warm blood splattered across her face as the the grip on her wrists loosened.
Zanfire stood above her with a bloodied knife in one hand and the Killtooth's head in the other.
Its neck now a geyser of crimson, Carella pushed the now headless beast off her.
Without a word, they ran back to the campsite.
Gurkain's wife, Thorilove, pressed a rag against her husband's neck. He tried to speak through gurgled breaths but she put her finger to his lips.
“
Don't talk,” she whispered.
“
Are there any more?” Zanfire yelled, eyes darting around the camp.
“
Don't think so,” Iangold said.
Scared faces emerged from the tents. Soon the entire group of missionaries had gathered around the bitten victim.
Satisfied that there were no other Killtooths around, the cleric turned his attention toward Gurkain.
“
Can you heal him?” Thorilove looked up at Zanfire with tears in her eyes. “Please.”
Zanfire knelt down beside Gurkain. He gasped at the amount of blood streaming out of his old friend.
He laid hands on the man's forehead. He remembered a time, long ago, when Gurkain came to him with a life threatening fever. Zanfire healed him with one touch.
But now...
“
Can you heal him?” Thorilove asked again, the hopeless look on her face breaking Zanfire's heart.
When Zanfire had the healing spirit, he could feel the magic in his body.  He could feel heat welling in his hands and a warmth in his chest.
He pressed his hand on Gurkain's forehead and felt nothing.
Blood bubbling in his throat, Gurkain's breaths became shallow. Staring into Zanfire's eyes, his body jerked one last time then went limp.
“
Gurkain!” Thorilove clutched her husband's tunic. “Gurkain! No!”
Zanfire's legs trembled as he tried to stand up. He could not meet the eyes of Gurkain's widow.
He wanted to walk to the end of the horizon and fall off the earth.
Carella took him by the arm and shepherded the shaken cleric back to his tent.
“
We can't raise the dead,” she said.