Double Life - Book 1 of the Vaiya Series (9 page)

His accusatory words thundered in Ian’s ears.
“What?” blurted out Ian, as he avoided looking into the elf’s
piercing green eyes. “Who’s Tazik?”

He gave Ian an icy stare. “Does the Kingdom
of the Dwarves light a fire?”

Ian frowned deeply in distress. Elves,
dwarves … now he really was trapped in a fantasy world. The worst
thing about it though, was he hadn’t a clue what the elf had just
said. “Light a fire?” His tone had an edge to it. “Is this some
sort of riddle, Azadar?”

“No, it is not, boy,” replied Azadar,
irritation wrinkling his otherwise smooth forehead, as if Ian had
soiled his name by merely speaking it. “I just reminded you where
your allegiance lies.”

Ian cocked an eyebrow, both intrigued and
galled by his statement. “And where’s that?”

“With the dwarves.”

A smile immediately flickered across Ian’s
bitter face, and he had to stop himself from laughing at the
absurdity. He’d never liked dwarves--they were too arrogant and
fierce. His favorite character in Lord of the Rings was Aragorn,
while the dwarf guy wasn’t even in the top ten, making the elf’s
claim that he was working with the dwarves extremely ridiculous.
Clearly, he didn’t know what he was talking about.

“So, do I look like a dwarf to you?” asked
Ian, after a slight pause, not knowing why else Azadar would think
he was working for them.

“Of course not,” he argued, his tone growing
even harsher. “You are human through and through.”

Ian just stared at him, entirely perplexed by
now. He asked the only logical question he could think of. “Ok,
since I’m not a dwarf, then why do you think I’d work for
them?”

Azadar wasted no time in responding. “Because
dwarves often hire humans to do their espionage for them, as they
themselves are naturally clumsy and make poor spies.” Clutching his
basket tighter, clearly growing frustrated, Azadar shot an
accusation at Ian. “Based upon your ragged apparel and peculiar
disposition, you’d be just the person they’d hire.”

Ian nearly exploded. “What’s that supposed
to--?”

The elf cut him short. “Do not attempt to
fool me, boy. I know your kind too well, and I’m not going to
explain anything else to you that you pretend not to know.”

Ian just gave him a confused look; even a
semester-long course in Jimmy’s fantasy lore couldn’t prepare him
for this. Who ever heard of humans spying for dwarves? He surely
hadn’t.

However, from the wave of impatience that
swept across the elf’s face, apparently Azadar thought that this
knowledge was rudimentary. “Is your head buried inside of a tree,
human?” he asked roughly.

His rude remark awakened Ian from his stupor,
rejuvenating his annoyance for the elf, as Ian realized that,
whether he liked it or not, it wasn’t possible to get on his good
side. Azadar entirely loathed him, and, unless a miracle happened,
would never see him in a different light.

Burning with fury towards the elf at this
awareness, Ian no longer cared about appeasing him anymore. If
Azadar got violent and aggressive, Ian would just have to hope that
he were the stronger fighter.

Pausing much longer than he should have,
knowing that the elf thoroughly hated it, Ian then repaid his
insulting question with a spiteful comment of his own. “Not at the
moment,” returned Ian impudently, in his most sarcastic voice, one
he’d picked up from Eddy. “Though I’m sure we could remedy
that.”

Not amused, finally catching onto his
sarcasm, Azadar frowned deeply at him. His elf companions were
restless; he was impatient. “Who sent you here?”

Taken off guard by his unexpected question,
Ian hesitated slightly, before replying, “No one.”

His blunt words were not received kindly.
Azadar gave him a silent scowl, while the blonde female took two
brisk steps towards him and grasped his arms, locking them in
place, making it impossible for him to try to run away. She was
unusually strong, even stronger than she looked.

After giving him a prolonged look of
coldness, possibly trying to intimidate him, she finally said,
“There are two ways we can go about this, Ian. Either you can start
being honest with us, or you can continue to lie to us.” She
gripped his arm tighter. “If you continue to spew forth lies
though, I warn you, we will be forced to lock you up in our
dungeon. Understand?” She smiled callously at him, before resuming,
as if she were talking to a ten year old, “So, let’s try this
again. Who sent you here to spy out our kingdom?”

Ian frowned. This conversation was quickly
getting out of control. “What do you want me to say?”

The female sunk her head as her smile
vaporized, her tone brimming with bitter sarcasm. “The truth. What
else?”

This was seriously getting old. About to lose
his temper, Ian clenched his fists as he replied, “The lightning
sent me.”

She didn’t even blink an eyelid. “As I
expected,” she replied, looking not at all annoyed by his answer.
“So you’re of the Storm Order then.” She smiled deviously, as she
asked her next question, “So, what were your plans?”

“To get out of this forest,” snapped Ian.

“And then what?” she asked, with the easy
tone of a professional salesperson.

“I don’t know; maybe find a nice village or
city to stay in.”

She just grinned at his answer, as if he’d
given her all the information she needed, before releasing her
anaconda grip on his arms. “Thanks for guiding me to the gardens,
Ian. I’m sure your dwarf leader Dhianté will be much displeased to
lose such a loyal member.”

Ian cringed in disgust and terror. Dhianté,
what kind of name was that for a dwarf? It sounded more like the
name of a rap star. And why did she automatically assume that he
was following this person? What kind of ridiculous logic was she
using?

As he just glared at her hoping she’d clarify
herself, she tapped her feet on the ground instead and spoke
nonchalantly, revealing none of her reasoning, “Come with us to the
Nakar Dungeon, Ian.”

“What?” He stood paralyzed with fear, a wave
of shock rolling over him at her indifferent tone, even as he
half-hoped she wasn’t being serious. “I thought you said you’d let
me go if I told the truth.”

The female elf just smirked, deeply amused by
his response. “I never promised you that. And, besides, you
didn’t
tell us the truth. The lightning sent me? What kind
of simpleton response is that?”

“But the Storm Order,” blurted out Ian, his
face turning a deep crimson. “You said that--”

“That idea came solely from my imagination,”
she interjected. “Honestly, how foolish are you?”

Ian scowled, trying his very hardest not to
lose his temper. “If I’m so dumb, then why would I be a spy?”

She smiled. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell
me?”

Ian about lost it. It took him a few seconds
of fuming before he was able to speak again.

“Why don’t I tell you?” he spat out. “I’ll
tell you why. Because I’ve got nothing to tell!”

The elven woman took a step back, a bit
surprised by his outrage, yet still far from intimidated by him. A
slight look of annoyance on her face, she added, “You are making
this way harder than it should be, Ian. Confess your guilt now and
we may lessen your sentence. Hesitate, and we will be forced to
bring severe retribution upon you.”

Ian spiraled completely out of control. “I
seriously don’t believe this!” he shouted. “All I did was take a
nap here and yet you treat me like a criminal. Where’s your sense
of justice?”

Instead of the female replying, however, as
Ian had expected, Azadar took over the conversation, glaring at
him, jerking his head to the side disdainfully, his voice chilling
like the frostbitten air before a wintry sunrise: “If you were
honest and pure we would not have to use these tools against your
soul.”

“Tools against my soul?” he muttered, growing
even angrier by the fact that he didn’t have a clue what Azadar was
talking about. “All I did was rest under a tree and I’m accused of
spying? Come on!”

Frustration dictating his tone, Azadar gazed
at him maliciously. “We do not pity those who receive injuries
doing Zharmun’s work,” he replied poetically, as if reciting a
mantra. “Nor do we show any mercy to those beneath our status.”

Beneath our status? So this guy actually was
a monster.

Holding back his wrath, Ian gave up on this
fruitless argument, not even caring to ask who Zharmun was, as he
was obviously someone else he should already know, some wicked
person like Dhianté. That he’d been accused of following this
Zharmun made him even more furious.

Sick of being criticized, Ian haphazardly
switched his gaze from the leader to the other male elf who hadn’t
said a word yet, observing a deep anger brooding over his face.

Uncertain what this meant for him, Ian
remained quiet as he watched the silent elf step forward and face
the leader with grief swirling in his dark green eyes.

“Have you finished accusing him yet, Azadar?”
questioned the elf sternly. “Or do you still have more slanders to
pour out on him?”

Stunned, Azadar glared at him darkly, malice
crawling through his eyes like centipedes, before replying
brutally, “By the king’s throne, he is as guilty as death, Evlan.
Just look at him? Those are not the eyes of the innocent.”

Peering at him keenly, Evlan thoroughly
inspected Ian, staring rigorously at his hair color, his eyes, his
face, his clothing, everything about him, searching for an
answer.

After what seemed like forever to Ian, he
eventually turned back to the leader, a confident reply on his
lips: “I disagree. He looks bewildered, tense, and even irritated,
but not wicked. If you had any sense you could see the boy was
telling the truth.”

Unholy eyes of a wraith, Azadar took in the
elf, his forehead wrinkling, jagged lines crisscrossing across his
face. But only for a second, before a much more composed self took
control of his emotions, causing a thin smile to suddenly flicker
across his face. “This is lunacy, Evlan, and you know it.” His
voice resounded with unwavering authority. “By Queen Jahla’s
scepter, I swear you’d let a murderer slip by just because he
answered you politely.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” he argued, cautiously
choosing his words, steeling his eyes against his companion’s
overbearing demeanor. “I can tell a murderer from a harmless boy
any day, Azadar, and as the vines grow, this human is entirely
pure.”

Azadar’s eyes darkened. Then he just laughed.
“As pure as any human can be,” he retorted, a hateful smirk on his
lips, “which is filthier than dirt.”

As Evlan paused angrily deep in thought over
this grating response, Ian, still leaning hard against the tree,
stared at Azadar and pointed far off into the woods. Though glad to
have some sympathy from Evlan, he was, nonetheless, entirely
horrified by this whole conversation. “Hey!” he shouted, grabbing
their attention, as images of his near escape from death flashed
through his mind. Why he didn’t think of mentioning this sooner was
a mystery to him. “You’re wasting your time with me, man. If
anything, you should worry about those three gray-cloaked sorcerers
out there who nearly killed me.”

Suddenly, as if he’d spoken a magic word, a
dark, terrible one, the elves’ eyes lit up; the atmosphere grew
tense. Azadar, however, remained mostly unfazed. “You make quite a
claim by saying that you’ve been pursued by the Elayans,” he spoke
with slight uncertainty, “for their kind was annihilated by the
Great Plague in Zerinus over two and a half centuries ago.” His
eyes darted like fire. “What was the symbol you said was sewn into
their robes?”

He bit back his anger. “I never mentioned
it.”

“Then illuminate our minds,” Azadar replied
with mock curiosity, fully regaining his audacity.
Recalling the emblazoned lightning insignia embroidered on the gray
men’s tunics, Ian responded brusquely: “They wore a yellow
lightning bolt symbol.”

A hush descended. The elves shifted on their
feet; the female elf backed away even further from him, clearly
frightened. Evlan stared at Ian, wary and disconcerted. But the
leader remained unimpressed, adding a slather of arrogance to his
tone:

“Yes, that is the symbol of royalty--the one
the Elayan rulers are known to have worn. I’m glad you at least
know your history, boy.”

Seeing his plan completely foiled, Ian
swirled into a storm of rage. Here he’d thought mentioning the
sorcerers would help his cause. Now he saw it had little to no
effect. It was completely aggravating.

“I don’t know any history,” shouted Ian, face
now flushed with anger. “All I know is that these sorcerers wanted
to murder me.”

Azadar’s mouth grew tight. “Then how did you
escape death?”

He winced. “They gave up chasing me after
they thought they’d killed me.” He glanced at the leader and then
at the other two elves, gnawing pain in his voice, “Would’ve you
been glad if I’d died?”

A short pause. “No,” said Azadar firmly,
possible doubt crossing his face at Ian’s vague survival
explanation. “You may be useful.”

Ian kicked the dirt. “Just what do you plan
on doing with me?”

“We will secure you in the Nakar Dungeon and
interrogate you until we find out why you’re here and who sent you.
For,” he added, a devious grin on his face, “if you think for a
moment that we believe your little story about the Elayans, you’re
more foolish than a one-legged dwarf trying to outrun an elf. I’ve
heard better tales from a drunken pirate.”

But Ian barely even heard his insults. All he
could think about was how he was going to be locked up in this
prison and how brutal the interrogation procedure was going to
be.

Though he’d previously hoped that the female
elf was just trying to intimidate him when she’d mentioned the
dungeon, now he saw grimly that she was speaking the truth.