Persepera

The 26th of Thargelion

The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals

The air in Myriatos was thick with rumor. All of the villagers had been pulled away from their responsibilities and gathered in front of the Village Hall. Lyssa stood with Vik and Theodorous as Elpida and Gigator organized everyone into simple rows. Figoritolos and his band stood nearby, discussing something in hushed tones that not even Lyssa’s ears could pick out. Once everyone was lined up, Vik turned to Fig.

“There. No one is screaming or bursting into flame. Are you satisfied that the vampire is not here?”

Fig scowled.

“She might be hiding in one of your buildings.”

Vik signaled four guards over and told them to search each building for any stragglers.

“When they return with a negative report, we will send you on your way.”

“This is not all of your people, is it?” Fig asked. “I recall hearing of a man with scars instead of a face, a satyr, and an exile with clipped ears.”

Lyssa bristled.

“With due respect, sir,” Theodorous chimed in. “None of those match the vampire you described to us.”

“With due…respect, I am speaking to your betters.”

“The man and the satyr are on a mercantile trip to the city of Ship’s Shape,” Vik said easily. “The wood elf is among our number but is currently gathering food with some of our other hunters.”

“They are the ones responsible for freeing the vampire from her prison. They will need to answer to Dawnwood. I would know when they will be returning and will take them for judgment.”

Lyssa frowned. She’d been in Myriatos when the vampire was freed and Fig had made no mention of Tess, Basil, or Cora. Vik smiled graciously.

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that. Dawnwood does not have claim to the territory from which the vampire was released and Myriatos recognizes no authority of Dawnwood over it.”

Fig stepped close to Vik and bared his teeth. The moon elf’s eyes twinkled at the attempt at dominance.

“Take a step back, son. Your breath offends me.”

Fig’s snarl turned into a sneer, but he did as he was told. Vik made a gesture to Gigator and the crowd dispersed.

“Do you have no remorse for the evil you have unleashed? The lives you’ve endangered?”

Vik’s easy-going expression melted away.

“Tread carefully, Figoritolos of Dawnwood.”

“I don’t believe for a moment that you sent those people away, nor do I believe you’re not in charge, here.” Fig jutted his chin upward, one hand drifting behind his back. “If you won’t surrender the responsible parties, then we will apprehend them personally. The danger to Dawnwood is clear and present.”

This last didn’t seem to be targeted at Vik, but rather the other five elves behind Fig, all of which were hunters. Lyssa’s brow furrowed. Her father would not have sent hunters as envoys, he would have sent diplomats. It would be foolish to send force to intimidate a new settlement in the region. The possibility of friendship would be forever stained and it would create long-term strife between the two. Lord Cypress had ruled Dawnwood for centuries, he would not have been so short-sighted.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Lyssa watched the elves behind Fig eye each other. Their uncertain stances, the anger and pride stamped across Fig’s face.

“You have exhausted your hospitality,” Theodorous said. “It’s time for you to leave.”

Fig didn’t even look at Theodorous.

“I do not answer to humans.”

“I wasn’t asking, sir.”

“If you force me to leave now, empty handed, I will return with the full weight of Dawnwood at my shoulder. Your pathetic wall will not stop us from burning out the threat to our forest.”

“This is Myriatos. We have survived fire.”

Fig snarled and struck. His movements were fast, far too fast for a human to follow. Even Vik was taken off-guard, moving to intercept the strike far too slowly. Lyssa, however, had expected this. She closed the distance between them in less time than it took for Fig to close his fist and placed herself in front of Theodorous. Her hood flew back and the wrap around her face slipped down to her neck.

She caught Fig’s arm at the wrist, her nails piercing his flesh and holding the limb firm. His face registered shock, then recognition.

“You.”

The other elves tensed, then took a step back. Fig had fallen into the elvish tongue and Lyssa joined him there.

“You will not touch my steward.”

“You’ll be coming with me, murderer.”

“I think not.”

Fig threw his shoulder at her, trying to rely on his larger size and weight. Lyssa’s eyes flashed. Golden light exploded outward. Strength and speed coursed through her as her Mana swirled within. Music of action, symphonies of power. Perhaps this was how Arche felt when he used his Divine Body. It was intoxicating.

Fig moved as though through water, with all the strength of a child. Lyssa bent her wrist and watched a new joint form in his forearm as the bones there shattered. She placed her other hand on his throat and swept his leg out from under him, pulling on his broken arm to make him fall. Once he was on the ground and she had him pinned, she quieted the song. Chills flooded her, a thrill left behind by a taste of power, knowing she could have more at any time. As she knelt over Fig, restraining him in place by throat and arm, she knew a bit of that power remained.

“Lord Cypress did not send you. You came on your own authority, threatening my people. Unacceptable.”

She released him and stood, leveling her burning eyes at the rest of the elven party.

“Return to Dawnwood. Tell him what has happened here. If he wishes to retrieve his hunter, have him send a proper emissary.”

“You are exiled,” Fig gasped, clutching at his broken arm. “He will not treat with you.”

“She is archousa,” Vik said, joining them in elvish. “You had better hope he does.”

Fig’s face went taut with horror. The other elves inclined their heads and ran to the river. They dove in, crossed to the other side, and kept running. The light had caught the attention of many of the villagers who had not quite cleared the area, but Gigator, Elpida, and a few straggling guards helped everyone go back to their business.

“Will you kill me as you did your brother?” Fig spat in the common tongue.

The thought was a tempting one. Lyssa paused just long enough for the blood to drain from Fig’s face, leaving his wooden complexion ashen.

“It would not be conducive to an amicable relationship with Dawnwood, Archousa,” Theodorous said gently.

“Indeed.” Lyssa savored the thought a moment longer. “Please fetch Odelia, Theo. I believe our guest has injured himself.”

“Of course, Archousa.”

“You are lucky the Archousa is faster than I am,” Vik said as he hauled the elf upright. “I was going to kill you.”

Fig’s brow furrowed.

“You’re an elf,” he said, as though that was explanation enough.

Lyssa understood his thoughts. It was the cardinal law of Dawnwood: elves didn’t kill other elves. They were too long-lived and too few to allow such a thing. An elf of Dawnwood would never consider trying to kill another elf, but to kill a human? Humans killed many elves and they grew everywhere. To kill a human wasn’t murder, it was weeding. Fig could comprehend Vik’s murderous intent no more than he could understand why two elves, especially one formerly of Dawnwood, would protect a human.

“And you’re alive,” Lyssa said. “Think on that. Vik, take him to one of the empty rooms in the hall and bar him in. Post a guard if you have to. He’s summoned a storm and we had best decide how we’re going to weather it.”

Vik grabbed Fig’s uninjured arm and marched him into the hall. Lyssa rubbed her eyes. No one moved faster in the forest than a Dawnwood elf and there was no telling what story the hunters would give to her father. She had to prepare her people for the worst.

It was going to be a long few days.