Revenge Of The Elf (Book 1) (23 page)

“Your Dark Lord offered us this choice. It was a long time ago. We remember. The sky was very blue that day. And the Worldgate burned green. It's what drew us there. He asked us to fight,” he closed his eyes. The elf glanced at the mage, who stared back helplessly, his grimoire tantalisingly close. Gaket sighed, and the sound was like a door scraping over gravel. “For a moment, we were tempted. But though she foresaw her fall, she could not foresee what would happen to us when she was no more. That, without her, our mortal memories would haunt us. That we would begin to remember. And to wonder.”

The Lichspawn bowed their heads as one in a manner the elf thought was almost gentle.

Behind them the buildings burned brighter as magefire spread like a disease, tearing at rooftops. Licking her lips, the elf wondered how long before the flames engulfed the town.

Not long, she thought.

“We fought too many wars,” Gaket continued. “We are empty. We no longer feel the thrill of the hunt. We have withered, Child of Veil. We are weary. Do you understand this?”

She nodded, thinking of Talek. “Seen it happen. You get your fill of killing. But there ain't much else you're good at. So, you don't know what to do,” she said. “That what this is about, Gaket? You're bored? Well, get a fucking hobby. Try pottery. Make cups.”

“She knew you would come,” he drew his lips back and the elf was horrified as she realised he was smiling. “Knew you would be in this place. At this time. We have waited for you for hundreds of years, Child of Veil. At last, the Darkness will fight again.”

“Then get on with it!” she snapped, all the fear shattering as frustration exploded through the thin veneer. “Fight! Come at me. So you're sick of the world. Want to die? That it? Then, come on! What are you waiting for? You know, I pity you, Gaket. Not because you've been alive this long filled with Veil's curse, or blessing or whatever the fuck. Not that. But because you've lost your balls. Lost them somewhere along the way. Now you drag your feet across the world, crying in your fucking scabbard because you're too weak to end your own life. You're a coward, Gaket. A useless fucking coward. She would be ashamed of you. Ashamed because you sit there weeping over what you've lost. You had both the chance and the power to do something. To avenge her death if you wanted. But you chose instead to cry in the dark, hiding from Rule. You don't have the guts to go to him. To stand before him. And spit in his fucking face! You've waited for me? Whatever bullshit that's about, you can keep. You can bottle it up and drink it on those cold winter fucking nights. Now, I'm leaving. Right now. You can try to stop me. And if you do, I'll finish your fucking whining faster than you can fucking blink.”

As she spoke, the elf's face mottled red with rage and shame. Part of her realised she was more enraged by how similar she was to him. How the seething rage burning through her body was disguising the crippling guilt she felt at Talek's fate.

How she felt so helpless and alone.

But, she reminded herself, instead of weeping on Talek's grave, at least she was doing something.

At least she was hunting his killers.

Her teeth clenched tightly as she glared into his empty eyes.

Gaket stood unmoving, his sword's notched tip pressing lightly into the snow.

And then that awful smile cut into his face again as he said; “You are everything she promised you would be, Child of Veil. We will gladly stand in your shadow.”

“I don't think I'd like that much.”

“It does not matter. You will serve her.”

“Nysta?” the spellslinger's voice was tight. “If you're finished playing with the scary thing, I think now would be the perfect time to cut me free and get us out of here?”

She took a step away from Gaket, whose smile kept getting wider as his eyes burned darker. Behind him, the Lichspawn knelt as one.

Shadows tugged themselves out of the ground and began sliding gracefully through their ranks like wisps of smoke. Her guts tightened at the sight of them.

“Reckon you might be right, 'lock,” she breathed, a cold ripple of dread creeping up her spine and into her brain.

“We are tired, Child of Veil,” Gaket rasped. “Our time has passed. The gift I have born so long must be passed on. I would have passed it long ago, but she forbade it. She told me to wait. To wait for you. Well, you have come. And it is time. Accept it. Accept her gift.”

The shadows darkened as they approached. They intertwined like rope to form thick wires of pure darkness. The kind of darkness that spoke of nightmares become real.

She could hear them whispering to each other as they glided toward her in voices low and alien.

Hypnotised by the bubbling sound, the elf felt her mind shiver but couldn't stop trying to make out the words. Couldn't keep from listening.

Her eyes were heavy.
A Flaw in the Glass
suddenly weighed too much.

She wanted to open her hand.

Let it drop to the ground.

Sleep.

“Nysta!” Chukshene's voice sheared through her reverie. “Snap out of it! We've got to get out of here! Now!”

Flashing violet eyes open, the elf snarled and her body moved without thought. Gaket hissed as she drew, aimed and threw
All Tore Up
. The slim blade thudded into his face, just above his nose. His head snapped back and black blood spurted like a swarm of bees before splashing to the ground.

He staggered backward, clutching at the handle jutting from his head. She knew the blade hadn't killed him, but hoped it would slow him down.

The first cord snapped at her, wrapping tight around her wrist. Gasping in pain, the elf realised it was trying to chew at her flesh. And, unlike the mouth of a leech, she doubted it was trying to suck her blood. Rather, it was trying to get inside.

Panicked, she tugged hard. The cord refused to give.

A Flaw in the Glass
sliced easily through the thin black wire. As the blade cut through, the cord hovered still for a moment before dropping to the ground and shattering like glass. Dusty splinters scattered around her boots.

The Lichspawn howled as one and the elf spun away with a gasp, throwing herself beside the spellslinger.
A Flaw in the Glass
hummed, biting through the arms holding him down with sickening ease.

He gave her a sharp nod of thanks and snatched his grimoire.

They rolled to their feet together, the elf slashing at the grasping cords of black, and sprinted toward the gates.

“Shit!” the warlock nearly tripped over his robe and struggled to open the grimoire while he ran.

Bursting through the gates, they were followed quickly by Gaket's howls and the shadowy cords snapping at her heels. Her terror threatened to make her scream, but the elf bit stubbornly down on her lip. Tasted fresh blood.

“You cannot escape your fate, Child of Veil!” Gaket shrieked after them. “Her blessing will be yours. The Darkness will fight again! Fight, Child of Veil. Fight! Vengeance. Vengeance for her! Bring the shadows back to the world! It is your destiny! You hear me? She foresaw this moment! It is your destiny!”

“Fuck you,” the elf panted, her legs pumping hard. She snatched at the warlock, trying to drag him faster down the path.

But one of the cords slapped at her knee and she stumbled, nearly taking the spellslinger down with her. Cursing, she pivoted,
A Flaw in the Glass
gleaming. The blade chopped through the offending cord. Following her momentum, she landed awkwardly on her stomach, nearly opening her head on a jutting rock.

Breathed.

Scrambled onto her side and kicked out as something grabbed her boot.

Felt it let go.

A Lichspawn, quicker than the others, reared up out of the snow and its wide mouth opened as it made to clamp its tainted jaws down on her forearm.

That acrid stench again. Chukshene's words of power roared in her ears. Her stomach churned.

Magefire vomitted from the spellslinger's palm and tore the creature's head clean off.

She tumbled away, avoiding the gush of blood and more cords whipping toward her head.

“Move!” he snapped at her, his face pale. Clearly the casting was draining him quickly. “I thought elfs could run faster than this.”

She spat into the snow. Sprinted after him. “Just run, Chukshene,” the elf growled. “This ain't a race issue.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

They barrelled into the snow, pursued by flicking shadows and the relentless Lichspawn.

Chukshene glanced over his shoulder. “They're still coming.”

The elf grunted in reply, drawing
The Bustin Maestro
and spinning the broad-bladed throwing knife in her fingers. The fear buzzing in her belly mingled with frustration as she realised she was running in the opposite direction as the Bloody Nine.

She wanted to turn around so much she could taste it in her mouth like iron filings and splintered glass. But the thought of the dark wires touching her horrified her more than anything else in the world.

Catching up to the spellslinger, the elf grabbed a fistful of his robe and dragged him off the path, heading toward a small clutter of ditches curled up around a slight hill.

He gave a strangled gasp and nearly lost his footing. “What the fuck?”

“This way,” she growled.

“What for?”

“The hill. It's the only fucking advantage we're gonna get out here.”

“You want to stop? We can't stop! They'll be on us like fucking beggars on a dead rat! Grim's eyes, I fucking hate beggars.”

“You think they're gonna give up? Think they're gonna run out of fucking breath and just let us go?” she pointed
The Bustin Maestro
over her shoulder. “They ain't gonna stop, Chukshene. Best we can do is find a spot that gives us a chance.”

They leapt one of the deeper trenches and the elf landed on the side of her boot, but her ankle held. Chukshene wasn't so lucky. His foot slid in the snow and he fell forward, flat on his face. “Ah, fuck,” he flailed about, searching for the grimoire.

Nysta kicked the heavy book toward him with her toe and spun quickly to see the cords of black shadow fast on their heels. Dragged him to his feet. “Come on, 'lock,” she snarled. “This ain't time to be learning how to slide.”

“What?”

“Push on, you cross-dressing fuck!”

“I'm not-”

She shoved him in the back, sending him cartwheeling toward the hill as she rounded on the swarm, throwing
The Bustin Maestro
into the buzzing mass of cords with all her strength. Splinters of black shadow rained to the ground as the wide blade carved elegantly through them.

She watched the blade ricochet off a few rocks before being lost in the snow beyond them and regretted not being able to retrieve it. She hated losing knives, and
The Bustin Maestro
had been a good one.

When she'd bought it, Talek told her it was too broad. Too unbalanced to be thrown. The metal too thin.

That it would break on impact with anything harder than milk.

He'd been wrong.

The sound of snow whipped up by the flurry of cords broke her train of thought and she sprinted away, scratching at her palm. “I'm getting fucking board of this,” she spat.

The frozen wind felt like it could cut holes in her skin and for a moment she welcomed it. The smell of it was clean and fresh, wiping away the stench of rot wrapped around the town.

Wasting no time as he reached the top of the hill, the warlock dropped to his knees and began rifling through the pages of his grimoire. Didn't even look up as Nysta launched herself over the top while cords of black glided into view behind her.

A few Lichspawn managed to keep a good pace and clawed their way up the uneven slope. The elf's eyes glittered as she studied their progress but she didn't move, preserving her strength and slowing her breathing as the cords slithered closer.

“Haven't you killed them all, yet?” Chukshene scowled, feeling the pressure and unable to find what he was looking for in the old pages.

She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. Her heart drummed steadily in her ears.

A tingling sensation rippled down her shoulders and arms and she realised she hadn't felt this alive in so long. With the crisp smell of fresh snow filling her lungs and the residue of adrenaline throbbing in anticipation of another blistering flood, she couldn't stop the smile spreading across her face.

Could almost hear a clanking of chains falling from her body.  She felt light. Released.

Ready.

Rolled her shoulders. Pumped her fists around the handles of her blades. Realised she'd run out of time.

Pulled her mouth into a mirthless grin.

Said; “I'm working on it.”

And moved with a speed that stunned the warlock.
Love Me Deeply
in one fist,
A Flaw in the Glass
humming in the other, she whirled through the long snaking cords, cutting and slashing.

The ground was soon dark with the shattered remains and her boots crushed them mercilessly with each dancing step. The sound echoed in her ears and served to keep hope burning through the fear.

But they kept coming.

The first of the Lichspawn made the top of the hill and
Love Me Deeply
splashed into its face. It fell in a fountain of blood as the elf tore the lightly curved blade free and stomped hard on its chest to spring onto the next pale-skinned attacker.

Her leg snapped out, the heel of her boot crunching nose. A satisfying feeling which vibrated up her thigh and was reflected in the cruelty of her smile.

The second creature dropped quicker than the first,
A Flaw in the Glass
choking its final breath as it shredded its throat.

But they kept coming.

She tunnelled through them, blades flashing until the snow was black with foul blood. She relied on short sharp attacks to open veins and tear ragged holes in flesh. Wounds which, while they weren't gaping, were enough to bleed them out.

They died passionless deaths, writhing quietly in the snow as their life swept out of their bodies in thick black strings. It was as though they held no attachment to their lives, so losing them meant little.