Revenge Of The Elf (Book 1) (9 page)

Most humans moved slower than elfs, but Ollie was quick enough that the dagger sliced across her rib. Had to fling herself awkwardly to avoid taking the full force of the blade.

Saved from bleeding only by the tough wyrmskin, the elf snarled a curse as her boot slipped on a stone and nearly snapped her ankle. She stumbled, arms wheeling as she tried to catch her balance.

He gave a yelp of pleasure at seeing her tumble and rushed in, sensing an advantage. His fist screamed toward her jaw.

But the advantage he'd sensed, wasn't really there.

Recovering fast, she countered his attack with one of her own. Powered into him, her shoulder smashing hard into his hip, spinning him around. Driving him back with a series of sweeping kicks, she grinned tightly as the dance of violence pumped her body full of adrenaline.

Ollie bit back a curse as her boot smashed against his knees. Rocked to a staggering halt, he tried gaining his momentum by swinging his arm at her, his fist thirsting for blood as it blurred toward her face.

It was the worst move he could make.

Entrance Exam
flashed. The blade's belly tore smoothly into his incoming fist, entering between the two middle knuckles and carving up along the bones of his fingers as though cutting through cheese.

Then stopped as it chopped into his wrist.

His arm shuddered to a halt inches from her face and she felt his weight press against her. For a moment, their eyes met and she saw the triumph in his eyes die at the sight of blood welling up from his hand.

With a savage jerk, she ripped the blade free in a downward motion. Blood spattered at their feet and she spun ruthlessly on her heel.

Ollie screamed as agony travelled up the nerves of his wounded hand to slam into his brain like a sledge. Screamed again as the elf swatted his wounded arm aside so she could charge into him, ramming her shoulder hard into his chest to send him staggering back on failing legs.

Realising he'd underestimated the elf, he tried to run. Managed to half-turn away before the flash of
A Flaw in the Glass
lit up the campsite with its ravenous glow.
 

The elf's face was a mask of rage twisted over a core of joy as she attacked. The need to kill chased her like a starving wolf. She struck, a brutal blow that squeezed every ounce of strength from her arm as
A Flaw in the Glass
buried itself to the hilt in his chest.
 

Gently, she pressed her face against his, smelling his unwashed skin. Feeling a gasp of rancid breath rush against her cheek. “Tried to tell you,” she said calmly, holding
A Flaw in the Glass
as still as she could. “I ain't any kind of kind.”
 

Then ripped the blade upward, ignoring ribs to shear through his collarbone and explode free with a powerful spray of blood. Pulled a scream from somewhere so deep inside him that it sounded to her ears as though his soul itself was screaming.

The sound of Ollie's scream brought Carter to his knees and the hawk-nosed man gave a shrill cry in echo as the archer dropped to the ground.

Nysta paused above the body, her cold gaze scanning the bloodied chest. The gaping wound drew no new emotions from her and she wondered when it was that she'd lost the power to feel anything at all when faced with the awful sight of a man with his front opened up.

Then thought of Talek, and her chest tightened as though a fist clenched around her heart.

Carter dropped his hatchet and knife. Vomited heavily on the cold earth, his body heaving as he fought waves of horror and revulsion.

Slowly, she turned toward him.

“Carter Holl,” she said, her voice sounding hollow in her ears. “You tried to kill me. That pisses me off, you know.”

“Please, Long-ear,” he whimpered, clawing at the sodden ground. “Don't kill me. Please. I'll go. You won't ever see me again. I swear it! But, please, don't kill me!”

“Nysta,” Chukshene wiped his mouth and gripped the grimoire so tight she thought he might break it in two. “Please. No more.”

“I'll give you your coin back!” The wagoner struggled to pull the coins from his purse. They scattered out of his shaking hands and glinted in flickering firelight. “Here! Have it all! Have it. Just let me live!”

“Money can buy anything,” the elf said, her words coming slow and soft like a silk ribbon.

Chukshene sucked a quick breath.

The wagoner looked up, hope spreading over his face. Smiled weakly. “Thankyo-”

And got no further.
Entrance Exam
flashed like a steel hummingbird. The slender blade splashed into his eye and drilled into his brain with brutal efficiency. A puff of red mist burst from the wound.
 

He dropped without a sound, his body giving a single violent spasm before death wrenched all sign of life away.

“But it won't buy me,” she finished coldly.

“Son of a fucking bitch,” Chukshene croaked, his mouth hanging slack.

She spun on the spellslinger,
A Flaw in the Glass
glowing bright. The aftermath of violence made her quiver and her violet eyes glittered dangerously in his direction.

He scrambled backward, bringing up his grimoire like a shield. “Grim's withered cock! I didn't mean anything! Nysta, listen to me, I'm not-”

“Relax, mage,” she hissed through her teeth. “I know what you fucking are.”

Whirling away, the elf knelt to wipe the gore from her enchanted blade on Ollie's cloak. Slid the blade into its sheath before taking the archer's own knife in her hand and looking at it with a critical eye.

It was a practical weapon but with a jagged saw-toothed spine which seemed to be chopped into the steel for no reason other than to cause more pain. The handle was overly smooth wood and would need binding with leather if she didn't want to lose it if her fingers were slick. The edge was dull through lack of care. She figured the archer spent more time on his bow. But otherwise, it was in good condition.

She spun it lightly in her fingers to test its weight. Decided it was worth keeping.

With a callous smirk, the elf sheathed the freshly named
Kindness
in a sheath inside her boot. Lifted her gaze and flexed her wrists before checking the body of Carter Holl. Snatched
Entrance Exam
and pulled it free with an awful sucking sound that made the spellslinger flinch.

She felt his gaze on her as she moved.

Knew he was still worried she'd turn on him at any moment, but the rage which had chewed through her self control had already eased. It left behind a hollow sense of despair sliding around her heart like a worm.

The elf crouched low over the dead wagoner, her eyes drifting over the shadowy treeline. She could make out the sound of the small creek bubbling in the distance. A horse gave a low snort. Other than that, the land was steeped in icy silence.

“Are you okay?” he asked nervously. “Not going to slit my throat or anything?”

“If I were, spellslinger, I'd have done it by now.”

He turned her words over in his head a few times before letting out a sigh. “Guess you would have at that. Anyone ever tell you, Nysta, that you're more than just a little bit fucked up?” He scrubbed his fingers through his greasy hair before adding quickly; “No offence.”

The elf gave no reply. Instead grabbed hold of Carter's lifeless shoulders and began dragging the corpse away from the camp. He was heavy, but once she made the tree line, she kicked the body so it rolled out of view before returning for Ollie.

Found the mage picking his way over the bloodied ground, holding his robe high above his ankles. He had one hand wrapped delicately around one of the dead archer's boots and was hauling the body as though afraid of getting blood on his fingers. With each step, his face twisted in distaste.

“This is awful,” he complained. “Fuck. The stink. You ever thought there were cleaner ways to kill a man?”

She cocked her head at him and rubbed the scar on her cheek. “Ain't no clean ways to kill, spellslinger.”

“I guess not. But there's gotta be less messy ways. You didn't have to open him up like a fish. I used to live near the docks, you know. In Doom's Reach. Used to stink of fishguts. This is worse. Much fucking worse.”

The elf headed to the wagon and leaned inside. Poked around until she found a scrap of cloth. Using it to wipe her hands free of blood, the elf craned her neck toward where she thought the stream was. Squinted into the gloom. “Reckon water's this way.”

“Fucked if I know,” Chukshene gagged, nudging the body with his boot to roll it up against the other wagoner's corpse. “Grim's balls, this is crazy. Ah, shit. I think I trod in something. Fuck. Nysta? Where you going? Hey! Long-ear?”

The stream's water was almost frozen. Crisp flakes of ice drifted along the surface and collected along the pebbled bank. She watched the water flow through her fingers, taking a cloud of red away as though no blood had ever stained her hands. It was almost too easy to kill, she thought.

She heard a soft hushing sound and looked up.

Snow.

Delicate wafers drifting downward to bring more cold to the land. The elf grunted. Like it needed more.

A single flake brushed against her forearm and she watched it shrivel as it melted against the bracer hung loose from her arm. She lifted her hand and watched the water slide gently down the wyrmskin to seep into the crook of her arm before dripping off her elbow.

The drop hung in the air before plunging into the stream to be carried away.

Like blood.

Heading north toward the cabin she'd left behind.

A pinpoint of warmth stung the corner of her eye and she rubbed the tear angrily. She didn't have time for this.

Scooping a small handful of water, she splashed her open mouth. Felt the freezing water numb her lips. Gave a grunt as she wiped her hands on her pants and returned to the small camp.

Ignoring the dark patches on the ground and the long drag marks stained with blood, the elf dropped heavily beside the fire and peered deep into the fiery maw.

“Snow's coming again,” the spellslinger moaned. He blew into his hands, rubbing them together and holding them out toward the fire. “I fucking hate snow. It's fucking cold. You know, I think my balls are trying to roll up into my throat.”

“Talek,” she said.

The mage glanced at her, confused. “Huh?”

“You asked if anyone ever told me I was fucked up. Talek did. Said I was fucked up. Told me all the time.”

“He was right.”

“Maybe. He was a good judge of character. Had to be in his position.”

“Why? What was he?”

“Kulsa'Jadean.”

Chukshene frowned. “My elfish is mostly shit. And you Lostlighters aren't exactly normal elfs. Kulsa what?”

“Jadean. A guild. The Kulsa'Jadean are the King's Guard.”

“That means he was good, right?”

“The best. He stood at Jutta's right side.”

“And you? You were a guard, too?”

“Me?” Nysta snorted. “You see me guarding anything?”

“I guess not.”

“I was just a raghead. Not important, really. Especially now. Seems a long time ago,” she brushed the tattered jacket. The right arm felt loose at the shoulder and she wasn't sure she could be bothered mending it again. “Was proud of it though, once.”

“A raghead? That some kind of thug? You look like a thug. Again, no offence. I'm just saying...”

“Yeah,” she said bitterly. “It's something like that.”

“So that thing you've got going in your hair, that's part of the uniform? Why tie all that shit in there anyway? What's it for? Patch your clothes? Looks like you need more of them.”

“Snow's gonna fall heavy tonight,” she said, ending that line of talk. She felt surprised she'd even spoken about it in the first place. She hardly knew the man and even if she did, sharing her past wasn't something which came naturally to her. Absently fingered one of the scraps of cloth in her hair. “Best we use the wagon for shelter. I'll see to the horses. You put out the fire.”

“Put it out? What the fuck? It's all that's keeping me from turning into an icicle.”

“Leave it lit and we'll most likely burn in the night. Too much wood around, spellslinger. Even if most of it's wet, let's not take the chance.”

“Freeze, or burn?” He thumbed his nose. “Fuck. I don't know which I'd prefer.”

The elf shuddered, remembering the day Talek had been hit by magefire. How he'd screamed and screamed until she couldn't stand it anymore. “Freeze,” she said. “Trust me on that.”

She slapped her thighs as she stood, brushing dirt and ignoring wet spots of blood. Looked through the trees to where she figured the horses were tethered and headed in their direction.

Behind her, Chukshene started kicking earth onto the fire. “Glad I don't have tits,” he growled. “They'd have frozen off by now. Hey, Long-ear? You think there's wolves out here? I've heard they love nights like this. I hate wolves. I ever tell you that? Fucking animals. Evil balls of fur with fangs. Worse than cats. I hate cats, too. Make me sneeze. You know, up near Icereach, they get wolves the size of horses. Horses! Imagine that. Makes me want to puke just thinking about it.”

Nysta clicked her tongue as she neared the horses, ignoring the muttering mage. Approaching cautiously, she allowed them the chance to get used to her before she stepped too close.

“Take it easy,” she cooed softly. “You oversized lumps of shit.”

The closest let her touch its shoulder and she checked the tethers before accepting Ollie probably knew his job much better than she did. Admitted she didn't know much more about horses than how to tie them off and kick them in the ribs to get them to move faster.

The first horse she'd ridden had bitten her.

Only once.

The punch she'd aimed at its head ensured it didn't bite again. All the same, she didn't trust horses, and pretty much every one since had sensed her distrust.

The horse's eyes were glass orbs and the elf expected it to roll its head at any second and try to take out a chunk of her outstretched hand.

She inched her hand back slowly.