When Elves Die : Episode One (4 page)

CHAPTER 6
Gurkain's widow buried her sobs into Carella's shoulder. Her muffled cries were met with gentle caresses from the princess.
Thisrath and Walice, two of the recent teenage converts to Zanfire's missionary endeavors, patted the fresh grave with their shovels. Their task complete, they nodded at the cleric.
He nodded back and stared at the fresh grave. Stoella, Gurkain's six year old daughter, placed a flower in the dirt.  Her tiny hands molded the sand around the stem for support.
Zanfire gazed at the gravesite for several moments. He closed his eyes and prayed to Pegasin to help divine his words. Everyone in the camp stood around in silence, patiently waiting for the cleric to speak.
Thisrath handed out candles to the group. Walice followed, lighting each one.
“
Blood spills from good elves and bad,” Zanfire said. “That's what we usually say in times like this. But Gurkain was much more than a good elf. He was so much more than mere words could describe. He was the epitome of what it meant to be a strong elf. And friend. He believed in me when no one else did. He stood by me, he encouraged me and he meant more to me than I could ever mean to him.”
Zanfire looked over at Stoella. Despite her youth the little girl had eyes that sparkled with intelligence and understanding.
“
The book of Arcanscape tells us of a palace. A palace where elves become angels and dance under rainbows. And they wait for us to join them in paradise.”
Both Stoella and her mother remained at the gravesite long after everyone else dispersed. Zanfire watched them from his tent opening. The mother's face contorted in grief. The daughter looked on without expression.
He drank deep from his bottle and waited for the buzz. The tickle to his brain that would make his melancholy go away.
And corrode his gifts.
Zanfire heard footsteps and saw Carella walking toward him with Iangold.
He saw that Iangold was looking at the bottle in his hand with self-righteous contempt.
“
We're about a half day away from Carratris,” he said to them, returning his attention to the grieving mother and daughter. “I'll meet with Nerasora. We have had our differences in the past but she can be reasoned with. The elves in that village will be worthy allies.”
Gurkain's wife wailed in the distance.
Zanfire took another long swig from his bottle. The need to keep his nerves from jangling now trumped his need to keep his addiction hidden.
“
Quit blaming yourself,” Carella said.
“
I should have gotten there sooner,” Zanfire said.
“
Quit blaming himself?” Iangold scoffed. “How about quit drinking?”
“I'm not a quitter,” said Zanfire.
The cleric got up out of his tent and led the couple over to where the killing took place. Flies buzzed around the headless torso of the vampire elf.
“
Killtooths,” Iangold said. “They are after Carella. If they get her in the middle of the forest, she's berries for the picking. Who knows how many more of these are out there? We should have kept her in the castle.”
Carella shot Iangold an icy stare.
“
I am not going to be
kept
anywhere,” she said.
“
Do you see this?” Iangold seethed as he picked up the head of the Killtooth. He opened the jaw and showed her the fangs. “These..things...are out for blood. Your blood. They will stop at nothing. There's a whole dark world out there, Carella.”
The princess  turned her back on him.
Iangold pantomimed the Killtooth's jaw as if it were biting in to something. “They want to kill you. Like they killed Gurkain.”
Zanfire grabbed the head out of Iangold's hands. He threw it to the ground and crushed it under the heel of his boot. Stomping on it again and again, the skull shattered into fragments.
Iangold looked at Zanfire with contempt. Then he turned to Carella. “This old drunk cannot protect you anymore than he did Gurkain.”
Zanfire took another sip from his bottle, his hand trembling as he looked down at the smashed skull of the Killtooth.
“
Do not listen to what he says,” Carella caressed Zanfire's arm.
“
I give up,” Iangold said, walking away.
“
If you want to go back with him, I will understand,” Zanfire said.
“
I finished the final book of Arcanscape.” Carella watched as Iangold sulked away. “It prophecizes that the entire elven race...All of the tribes. Die off. We become extinct. Exterminated.”
Zanfire nodded his head. “Only a few people have been allowed to read those passages. But you can't always believe what you read.”
“
But all of the other prophecies came true. The creation of the city of Graceonna. The division of elven tribes. These were all part of the prophecy.”
“
A self-fulfilling prophecy maybe,” he said. “As are the tribal disputes. We cannot fight off the Killtooths and the Dark Queen if we are divided. The Dashfist tribe hates the Moontris tribe. Our own Kevfire tribe has been in constant dispute with the Blackwolf tribe. It is what the King of Darkness wants. It is how he will get power and how he will defeat us. If we don't come together.”
“
What happens if we cannot come together?”
“
The Dark Queen will rule over the entire land. It is written that there will be darkness for two thousand years.”
Zanfire stared off into the distance. A dark cloud swallowed the morning sun. He heard the low rumble of an approaching storm.
“
Our sister congregation should have been here by now. In fact, they should have been here before us. This was the meeting point.”
“
Maybe they got here earlier and went on to Carratris?”
“
I am worried.” Zanfire pointed down at the smashed Killtooth. “That they may have encountered some of these creatures along the way.”
“
The wife asked you to heal him back there,” Carella said. “You really do not have the gift anymore?”
“
I don't know what happened. I really don't.  Pegasin gives and he takes. That is my only explanation.  But your spell casting is improving. I can see it with what you did back there.”
“
Yes, I have been studying the Arcanscape whenever I can.”
“
That is good,” Zanfire said. “When we return to Wandacove, you will give the sermon. Your words and your miracles will unite the elven race.”
“
Why me?” she asked.
“
I can't do it anymore,” he said. “These people look to me for answers. And I look for answers in a bottle.”
“
So stop.”
“
You will be a catalyst for a union of the elves. Living together, helping each other, protecting one another. That is the vision I had when I healed you on that day years ago. You are the special one.”
Carella sighed deeply. Her face contorted with doubt.
“
What if I fail?”

CHAPTER 7
The town of Carratris had close to four hundred elves spread out across a mile enclosure. The missionaries arrived in the afternoon. They drew a crowd as they journeyed past  the town's narrow paths and  ramshackle huts.
The missionary caravan had half the town following them by the time they reached the village square.
Nerasora, the unofficial mayor of the village,  had purple eyes that looked at everyone with thinly veiled contempt.  Her tunic had sleeves made of rabbit fur which she continually rubbed for good luck.
“
Zanfire,” she said. “What brings a group of Pegasin missionaries to this Godless tribe of elves?”
“
Greetings,” Zanfire said. “My group has traveled for over four days by wagon to offer our friendship. I bring with me Carella, Princess of Graceonna.”
Carella stepped forward and extended her hand.
“
It is my pleasure, Nerasora.”
“
Likewise.”
Carella smiled and returned to the wagon to assist the missionaries. Nerasora watched as Zanfire's followers took out drums, guitars and tambourines from one wagon. The rear wagon showed elves taking out a skinned calf and pieces of wood.
“
Is there a party that I should know about?” Nerasora asked.
“
I was wondering if we could talk in private for a few moments?” Zanfire pointed to an isolated spot between one of the tents.
“
This is private enough.”
“
The Dark Queen is gathering in strength,” he said. “Killtooth attacks have increased in frequency throughout the land. Entire villages have been massacred in some of the northern regions. We have a group that was supposed to meet us a few miles back and did not show up. Now we fear the worst.”
“
What do you want from us?” she asked. “We are pagans that your tribe exiled years ago. Remember?”
“
We have a common enemy-”
“
We can fight our own battles. We don't need you. Or your silly religion. So why don't you-”
“
When my body turns to dust,
” Carella's vocals interrupted Nerasora. “And
my soul turns to rust...
”
Elven children from the village began to gather around the singing princess.
Carella worked the young crowd, caressing their faces and tousling their hair as her audience grew.
“
When elves die, the birds all cry,
” her song built to a crescendo as she raised her hands up to the sky. The little children smiled, taken in by the sound of her angelic voice. Some of the adults had tears welling in their eyes as Carella's lyrics touched their hearts.
The crowd stood silent after she completed the song. Then one elf clapped,  followed by another, and soon the entire crowd applauded in unison.
The princess bowed.
“
I am Carella from Graceonna. We are here because we don't want to be strangers anymore. We are offering our friendship and goodwill. Our chariots and wagons are filled with food. We have fresh beef,  seasoned with the most delicious herbs and spices of our region.”
She pointed to a large iron pot. One of the cooks stood there stirring up a broth with a huge grin on his face.
“
Please join us. Eat, drink and enjoy.”
The elves were hesitant at first and no one stepped forward. Finally, one of the more chunky bodied villagers walked to the elf stirring up the broth.
“
I don't believe in your God,” he said. “But that smells really, really good. I'll have some.”
“
She's a great singer,” Nerasora said. “But singing will not fend off the Dark Queen or the Killtooths.”
“
We're hoping that you and your elves will come join us in Graceonna. There is plenty of room and, quite frankly, we need your elf power. It is written in our holy book of Arcanscape...That if we are not united, we will fall.
Nerasora rolled her eyes.
“
I know you do not believe in the prophecies of our religion,” Zanfire continued. “But surely you can see the benefit in having both of our soldiers fighting side by side instead of dying separately.”
“
We have been attacked.” Nerasora admitted. “One of our girls is missing. I'm sure she's been caught and killed. A family of three were found killed last month. And I have thought about migrating but going north just gets us closer to Shaian. If we go west, well, there is the Great Unknown. And no one journeys past that point. If we go south, we have to contend with you folks. And you didn't want us-”
“
That's not true-”
“
We reached out to you a few years ago. We were starving. The bison were dying and we had little food. We sent a messenger to your tribe. Do you remember what you told him?”
“
Things were different then. I was different-”
“
Yeah. We needed you more than you needed us. But now that we are of a benefit to you, all of a sudden, we are worth talking to?”
Zanfire stood at a loss for words. He had forgotten how he had dismissed the young elf that came as an emissary from this region. Back then, there were so many tribes asking for his assistance that he made the mistake of shunning some of them.
Nerasora eyed Zanfire for a few moments then walked toward the gathered crowd.
“
Attention, please,” she said. “Zanfire has been gracious to offer us asylum in his town of Graceonna. In order to combat the growing forces of the Dark Queen, he thinks it wise that we join our tribes together.”
The townsfolk stood silent. Each appraised the members of the missionary group, their reasons for arriving in town now understood.
“
To show his good faith and his connection with the divine, Zanfire has offered to heal one of our own.”
“
What?” said Zanfire.
“
Zanren and Walaver,” said Nerasora. “Please bring forth...Xavros.”
Everyone in the crowd stopped eating. Zanren and Walaver, two young elves with stout builds, looked at each other and then at Nerasora with a questioning look.
“
Bring forth Xavros,” she said to her surprised conspirators. “And Zanfire will heal him of his madness!”
The cleric grabbed Nerasora by the arm.
“
What are you doing?” he hissed.
“
I'm exposing you for what you are. And then you are never going to bother us again.”
Xavros' bloodcurdling scream echoed throughout the valley as the elves brought him out of a distant tent.
Hot sores smoldered on his face as he entered into the sunlight. He had handcuffs on both wrists with a six foot chain attached to each. The two elves pulled on the links at opposite ends and dragged the possessed prisoner forward.
“
Xavros was a victim of a Killtooth attack,” Nerasora said. “He is half-human, so he converted to the blood sucking monster that you see now. But now, today, Zanfire will heal him of his affliction! He will show us a gift of healing that was bestowed upon him by his God Pegasin.”
Most of the villagers squelched nervous giggles. But one laughed out loud.
Xavros' screams drowned out the mocking from the crowd.  The direct sunlight burned his face so he kept his head bowed. Smoke rose from the back of his neck and ears. His clothes were torn with blood stains blotted across his shirt and pants.
Xavros watched as Zanfire's long shadow on the ground moved closer to him. Green pus oozed from his eyes which were dark red slits with no discernible iris.
The cleric rubbed his hands together, praying for a miracle. His golden hands that once upon a time could heal an entire village had now grown cold.
He cursed his God. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself for the worst as he inched toward the possessed man.
Tendrils of smoke oozed out of sores on Xavros' face. He snapped his jaws at  Zanfire.
The cleric reached out to touch the snarling Xavros. An icy shiver traced its way along the base of his skull down to his spine.
Nerasora's elves drew back on the chains and Xavros howled in pain. Undaunted, he lunged forward again at Zanfire.
The cleric ran backward, tripped over his feet and stumbled to the dirt.
The villagers laughed.
“
You see,” Nerasora said. “The typical holy man. His words fill his worshipers with false hope and promises. But when it comes to actually performing a miracle, he fails-”
“
Let him go!” Carella walked toward Xavros without fear.
The demon snarled and lunged toward the blonde girl. The two elves struggled to hold him back.
Xavros jaws snapped like a rabid dog.
“
What are you doing?” Zanfire said.
“
I said let him go!” Carella lifted her arms high above her head and brought them down. The locks on Xavros' wrists magically snapped open.
With his newfound freedom, the demon bolted toward Carella.
The two elves started to give chase but they were strides slower than the charging lunatic.
“
Run!” Walaver said.
Carella refused the command. She stood in place and held up her palms. The charge of the possessed man stopped just shy of barreling into the young woman.
She reached out and gently touched his face.
“
Shhhh...” Carella stroked his cheek for a few moments, tears welling in her eyes.
Xavros stopped snarling. Then he fell to his knees.
Carella lifted up his chin and waited until his eyes met hers.
“
You are healed,” she said.
Xavros' body heaved as he started to sob.
The villagers stood in silence. They could not believe or comprehend what they had witnessed.
The burn sores on Xavros' face faded and healed.
He looked up at Carella, his pus-filled red eyes now a bright and healthy blue.
“
Who are you?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.