Vampiris Sancti: The Elf
Read Vampiris Sancti: The Elf Online
Authors: Katri Cardew
Tags: #romance, #vampire, #urban fantasy, #adventure, #universe, #demon, #fantasy, #magic, #elf, #magical, #battles
Vampiris
Sancti:
The
Elf
Book
1
Katri Cardew
Copyright Katri Cardew
2011
Published by Breedles
Publishing at Smashwords
http://www.breedlespublishing.com
Cover by Padraig
Designs
This ebook is licensed
for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or
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copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of
fiction. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Look, there's no metaphysics on earth like
chocolates.
Fernando
Pessoa
It was Beb who
warned her and the unexpected intervention of a Pixie was as
contradictory as the drunken slur of his voice against the
perfection of features that suggested sobriety.
“I am the weep
for dreams lost in the foolish while my tears are visions and we
are abandoned until known no more.”
If the Elf was
affected by the drunk rambling she revealed nothing. She had been
aware of the askew wanderings of the Pixie who, if she had not
known better, appeared to be stalking her. Zyre was trying to keep
a low profile, an unusual attitude for an Elf, but she had felt the
hum of interest following her about. It had been her experience
that attention tended to follow those that the Elders were about to
honour. This would be either, an impossible task or an impossible
situation, and she would care to discover neither because she was
certain if the Elders were involved it would bode well for no
one.
She’d been
slipping between the worlds of the Reveal effortlessly—well except
for a few demon worlds—as it would be a very foolish Elf who
wandered into a Martyc world. Those able to travel the various
worlds without fracturing into paranoia found themselves borrowed
by the Elders to perform tasks that could be dangerous or even
worse—boring. Zyre didn’t want to become a prisoner of the
institution—she wasn’t civic-minded nor had any inclination to
serve her community, so she kept herself out of the way of those
around her. The Pixie had noticed her even in his drunk ramblings
and he had fluttered lopsidedly between the tables until landing in
a manner anything except graceful while his ruby eyes offered Zyre
a stare best described as glazed.
“He speaks of
death from the Outerworlds, the scourge who speaks of death.”
Pixies could
enter any tavern aware that they would never foot the bill for
their drinks as there was always a bounty of those willing to ply
the mercurial creature with gin. Those doing so were hoping the
drunken ramblings of the Pixie would contain gossip of a
titillating, amusing, or shocking nature. If the Elders worried
about the drinking habits of their chatty messengers they took no
action, but then it did take a keen mind to decipher the rancid
prose they tended to use as conversation. Beb was no exception and
Zyre poured him another beer in the hope he would spew out what he
was trying to share or leave her in peace. He was in no hurry and
managed the impossible feat of fluttering while sitting in a chair
at the same time while regaling Zyre with muddled phrases of
eloquent nonsense. In normal circumstances, she wouldn’t bother to
stick around to watch a Pixie get drunk, but he had singled her out
which meant the information concerned her.
“The eye of the
flower weeps for evil has no home.”
She did her
best not to pinch him for the musings of a Pixie was never the best
entertainment. In general, the natures of Elves and Pixies didn’t
lend to friendship since an aloof existence was the safest avenue
for survival—except that she almost knew him. A while back she had
tipped him off when a Perhk demon, the thief of the Reveal, was
about to cheat him in a deal involving the precious juniper spirit
called gin. It wasn’t that she cared a great deal about Pixies
since they tended to vomit on your shoes and sing horrid dirges for
hours. Her interest was bound to that particular demon who had
managed to annoy her with his usual demon stupidity and one didn’t
annoy an Elf without consequence. The disrespect of the demon that
caused her anger was more attached to his ill-conceived arrogance
than his actions because the offensive creature had tried to
relieve her of some shalurs. The shiny marbles of iridescent
colours were poor cousins to the highly prized cerilort, yet still
highly valued. While Perhks were good, he wasn’t that good, and the
shiny gems—currency in some worlds—child’s plaything in
another—remained safely in her possession.
“Aruuuuugh.”
The Pixie made a sound between a burp and a yelp, his breath
stinking in her face.
Months later
she discovered the selfsame demon attempting to cheat a magical
creature out of the rare delicacy—human gin. In the magical world,
the only alliance was against outside forces and even then Elves
were well known for their lack of observable empathy. They were not
cruel, uncaring creatures; they simply couldn’t cope with the
intense demands of an emotional interior. Elves preferred to remain
the observer, unapproachable, uncontrollable, and sometimes
instigator of the tragedies of the Reveal. In this instance the
lure of gin from the human realm, using that special flavour of
juniper, had set the Pixie into paroxysms of delight. Anything from
the human realm usually came from the extremely expensive and
highly regulated Martyc Empire, and the only thing an Elf loved
more than upsetting a demon was upsetting a Martyc demon. The deal
with the Perhk was thwarted, and the Pixie despite being confused
by unusual Elf kindness never forgot the favour.
She endured an
hour of something resembling mangled poetry. Pixies couldn’t speak
in a straightforward manner and it took a rather determined soul to
suffer their doggerel. Zyre found herself reaching her limit of
universal pondering as she tugged at her copper hair with her small
fingers while her kaleidoscope eyes merged seamlessly between blue
and green. Elves were deceptive, not only in spirit but also in
body, so her delicate features and fine-boned structure gave her a
fragile appearance of one requiring protection. Lulled by the
non-threatening aspect of her appearance the victims of her pranks
or wrath were always surprised that such beauty could conceal great
mayhem. The Pixie was of a sturdier frame, with ruby eyes and
beauty to rival hers. All magical creatures, except Gnomes and
Goblins, were possessed of exceptional beauty that entranced the
demon worlds that shared their multiverse—the Reveal. After
muddling her head with his nonsensical musings the Pixie spewed
forth what kept him tied to the Elf.
Reeking of
Gnomes’ beer and a heartbeat away from starting a dirge his leer
approximated the link of friendship as he tapped his forehead to
make a point.
“I know of a
missive,” he said cryptically.
The Elf
refilled his glass since it was best to keep Pixies lubricated as
their coherence was linked to sobriety and the more sober a Pixie
the less coherent their conversation.
“So you say,”
she replied.
The
uninterested tone of her response was no more than façade as Pixies
were the messengers delivering information to and from the Elders.
If the Pixie had information that was important enough to seek her
out then it was serious enough to garner something she rarely
gave—her full attention.
Beb continued.
“They have plans, wanting friendship with this Martyc, a most
powerful Xatn on many worlds.”
“Blinkity bah,
when demons learn not to bother us with politics?” her annoyance
crackled.
He rolled his
eyes as if attempting to sort this information from the many other
messages crammed in his mind. Then he spoke in the shortcut magical
beings used as they sensed via the atmosphere rather than listened
to words.
“There be
renegade, the Martyc who attacks the Empire. Elders like peace of
current Xatn for with this prince there be no more wars for
anyone.”
Their eyes
became opaque with memories of the last demon war for while the
magical realm had never lost a war against demons, and probably
never would, it was the aftermath that was far more brutal than the
actual battles. Magical—the most powerful of the Reveal were also
the most fractured schizoid beings that barely coped with the
brutality of truth. Battles might be won, invaders expelled, entire
demon worlds demolished, but there was no celebration of victory
when entire Fairy Cartocs committed suicide, Gnomes hid underground
for a generation, Pixies ceased to function, and Elves absconded to
farthest recesses of the multiverse. Of all the worlds within the
Reveal, it was a contradiction that the creatures profuse with
talents were also the least stable in their psychological makeup.
The Martyc rule had brought peace to most of the Reveal, so while
an attack from other demon races was unlikely those wishing to harm
a Martyc would consider attacking the world they valued the most.
It was well known that Martycs loved Elves for they were the women
sought in the union of marriage and sometimes if they were lucky,
Elves would love them back.
“Martyc Xatn
has asked for alliance—he wants Elf and the Elders are to give
you.”
Blue seeped
into green as her kaleidoscope eyes became a stormy teal. “He asked
for an Elf or for me?”
Beb let out a
huge belch that scented the air with an alcoholic haze and Zyre
fanned the space between them as he replied, “Vryn Dhaigre knows of
an Elf who lost him a great deal of money on Heristrah.”
He stopped for
a minute as his face wrinkled with amusement, “That be you
Zyre!”
Zyre sighed as
she searched a mind filled with memories of transgressions too
numerous to account. She had visited the pleasure world of
Heristrah years ago, a place where rich demons sought expensive
pursuits such as gambling. The local Martyc was the usual arrogant
demon, strong, compelling, and annoying as all Martycs tended to
be, but not a Xatn yet. Once he had known of her presence he chased
until she let him find her for the game was not fun unless he was
witness to her mischief. She might have enjoyed his fascination if
she had not been so busy avoiding entanglement, as what a Martyc
desired was rarely what an Elf offered. The Elders wanted to align
themselves with an immensely rich and powerful demon, so an Elf
marriage would cement a strong treaty. Zyre was no fool because if
the Elders wished for an alliance, and if marriage was the seal
with her name mentioned, then she would be the one offered up as a
sacrifice. Politicians happily tossed their unsuspecting citizens
into any fire if it was a means to their goals, and her world was
no different in its political machinations.
Zyre smiled at
him because, despite the threat of being dumped into marriage, her
Elf nature couldn’t resist challenging the Elders.
“They can’t
give me if they can’t find me!”
Beb hiccupped.
“Don’t go to Outerworlds, they be dirty there full of Raiders and
dead mice.”
His advice fell
into empty space for the Elf had already dissolved as Elves tended
to when they were done with conversation. Zyre, aware that the
Elders would pressure her into this hell for the so-called good of
the majority, decided that the only path available to her was
obvious. If she absconded across the Reveal before official contact
was made then she couldn’t be forced to serve their purpose. She
briefly considered going to her Maz, the one who raised her, as she
had never known her parents. Their own mothers rarely brought up
Elves and they sent their daughters home to be raised by
surrogates. Elf mothers believed their demon sons required their
presence more than their daughters and so sacrificed keeping their
family intact. She had a brother somewhere once but her entire
family died, which was a very unusual occurrence in the magical
world. This left Zyre an orphan without ties. She sighed because
she knew her Maz would tell her to obey the edicts of her
government, something the wayward Elf had no interest in at the
best of times.
