~o0o~

Back at the farm village, the men, grew antsy. They seemed unable to leave the village. Try as they might, every time they went out of the front gate,, they immediately found themselves back in front of the large farm house again, with no clue how they got there.

"Dark magic's afoot," one man said.

The others nodded and agreed. Just than an unearthly looking blond woman, riding a large white stallion rode up. She was out of breath, and so was her horse.

"Excuse me!" She called out to the men. "Can you show me where the livery stables are?"

The men stared at her, terrified, as if they had seen a ghost, then suddenly bolted in every direction, running away from the women.

"How rude!" she declared as she climbed down from her horse and set about looking for someone to help her.

~o0o~

Back in the forest, Quaraun busied himself in packing up his campsite. And than began walking towards the direction of the village. If it had a stable for renting horses, than surely it was big enough to also have a saloon, maybe even one with goof quality Fairy Wine.

It was unlikely.

Faeries were the only ones able to make good quality Fairy Wine, and they rarely wholesaled it out to Humans. Besides, BoomFuzzy was dead, and not even the best Faeries made Fairy Wine like BoomFuzzy did.

Hailed among Fae at the best of the Master Faerie Chefs, BoomFuzzy, though famed among Humans for being a warlord, had been famed among Faeries as the chef, every Fae chef dreamed to become.

After some time of walking he came upon a small clearing with some bushes, which were growing around one side of it. In the centre of the clearing there was a large wooden building. Without thinking anything odd about doing so at all, Quaraun entered through the front door, without knocking and saw two women sitting near the fire. They both turned to look at him.

One woman had black hair, very light brown and looked to be about twenty or thirty years old. Her face did not seem very friendly.

“You have come from afar.” she said in a cold voice, but with slight curiosity mixed in.

“Yes,” responded Quaraun. “It has been quite some while since I saw any human being in this forest.”

“We have lived in peace for many decades now,” replied the other woman. “We do not require anyone to visit us.”

“I am sorry,” replied Quaraun, looking down, then back up again. The two ladies looked at each other.

“What are you called?” asked the other woman in a kinder voice.

“Quaraun,” answered Quaraun.

The black haired lady smiled.

“A pleasure.”

She got up and went over to stand next to the fireplace where Quaraun was standing.

“What is your name?”

“Quaraun,” replied Quaraun softly, bowing slightly.

The black haired woman giggled lightly.

“I see. You are the star Liberace of the stage!” She exclaimed.

"What?"

"Liberace."

"What is a Liberace?"

"Who?"

"Who?"

"Yes, who is a Liberace."

Quaraun noticed that they were both wearing the same clothes as he was, something was not right here. No one dressed like Quaraun. With all his pink silk, pink ribbons, pink bows, pink feathers, pink glitter, pink ruffles, pink crewel, pink gemstones, pink beads, pink rhinestones, and pink fru-fru, no one in their right mind would even dream of dressing like Quaraun, except, maybe Liberace.

Even Liberace wouldn't dress like Quaraun, unless maybe he had a bad hair day.

Quaraun also made all of his own clothes, right down to the cloth. For Quaraun was a silk weaver and embroiderer and tailor. So it wasn't possible for anyone else to wear his clothes.

Quaraun stood and stared at the women, and while he watched them, they suddenly vanished, as did the house around them.

"How odd," was all Quaraun said as he turned back to the path and continued on his way.

~o0o~

Back at the abandoned village the bandits were feeling uneasy.

No one lived here.

There weren’t any villagers around at all.

They were beginning to feel like they might actually succeed in taking down the place with just themselves and their weapons. They couldn’t understand why this deserted town had been chosen specifically.

They decided to move on when their third week began. There was a small stream nearby that the villagers said flowed into a lake. It would be easy for them to find a suitable location to set up camp for the night.

While setting up camp, as they started to pack, there was suddenly a loud thump outside. It sounded like someone hitting a tree with an axe. Was this sound the first sign of life they had encountered since their arrival?

A quick glance at each other and they all rushed outside to see who it was. It was hard not to notice how dark it had gotten. The only light coming from the moonlight filtering through the clouds.

It seemed like hours of walking and nothing had happened.

They looked out towards the road. Nothing could be seen. No lights from houses or vehicles either. All they saw was trees swaying ever so slightly in the wind and the sound of a distant engine rumbling somewhere deep inside the woods.

A few minutes passed by and they continued to stand there, waiting.

Still nothing happened.

They heard movement to their right.

Someone else was here too.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

They looked over at whoever it was. They recognized this man. He was the person responsible for the death of one of their men back when he had taken their prisoner away. He must have come here to make sure everything was okay. He was not from the village ether. A stranger, just like them. He wouldn't know where everyone had gone too.

It appeared as though he was trying to keep quiet but there was no way to hide his footsteps and how fast they were getting closer. When he finally reached them and stepped between them and where he had entered earlier, they saw that it wasn’t him that made the noise after all.

Standing right behind him was another soldier. One of their own, they realized. His face twisted in surprise as he turned quickly back around.

“By the gods! I didn’t think anyone was out here. What are you doing? Did we forget something at camp? Is it safe to return now? We should go back before anything happens.”

Just then there was a loud crash.

They turned around to see that the woman from earlier lay unconscious on the ground. They approached her slowly. One of them lifted her up to see if she was alright. She woke up when the men approached and glared at them. She pushed past them and ran towards a nearby building that was filled with barrels. The barrels seemed to move.

The men went after her and followed her inside. They saw her pick up one of the barrels and turn it over. She then smashed the barrel open on top of a man’s head. He fell onto the floor bleeding out. As they looked closer they could see his eyes moving under the blood that spilled.

The woman ran from the building as the men scrambled around their fallen comrade.

Outside the woman ran, terrified, looking in every direction for a place to hide. As she ran down the street, she spied a small alley between two buildings and turned down that corner, nearly slamming into Quaraun who was bent over rummaging around in a pile of crates.

"Hello," Quaraun said as he stood up to address the woman. Then noticing the distress on her face added: "Is something the matter?"

The sounds of angry men, yelling and shouting, did not give the woman any time to answer. She shoved Quaraun aside, knocking the old Elf off his feet, as she ran past him and continued her fear filled flight.

As Quaraun struggled with his cane, pulling himself to his feet, the tumble-bumble herd of angry men, came tearing down the road, they too knocking him over as they ran past in search of the murderess who'd killed their friend.

"Oh dear," Quaraun sputtered as he once again reached for his cane and struggled back to his feet. "Every one does seem to be in a rush around here."

Curious as to what was going on, Quaraun made his way in the direction the men had gone, after the woman. He stopped when he saw the men up ahead, and ducked back behind a pile of boxes that stood near the corner, then peeked out to watch what was going on.

As they crept towards a window at the edge of the building’s porch, two men entered one of the houses and left. The door closed behind them, and then everything happened so fast.

One man ran past them, towards the road. Two others turned towards him; then they fired. A second later, four arrows whizzed towards the man, striking him in the side and chest. He fell to the ground and didn’t move.

Three more men burst from behind another house. One pointed his sword straight at the first man who’d run out, while another raised his axe and prepared to attack the others.

Without thinking, Quaraun let out a scream. A moment later, he felt a sharp sting in his arm. It took him a split second to realize an arrow had hit one attacker in the stomach, and then he realized they’d caught sight of him. The remaining three men now charged at him, weapons drawn.

One held his shield up high over his head, while the other two held their swords in front of them, pointing at him. Both carried clubs. The last had the axe that he used earlier.

Quaraun drew one of the Elf Eater’s cursed daggers. The magic dagger flashed as the first two attacked him. One grabbed hold of his dagger hand. The other lunged forward, swinging his club. Quaraun dodged away, while the dagger, taken on a life of its own, flew through the air and stabbed the attacker in the face.

The other three quickly surrounded the elderly wizard, raising their blades high above their heads.

Before anyone could strike, the Elf Eater’s twin daggers slashed at each of them.

All three fell.

One landed hard on his side.

One on his leg.

Another on the floor.

The third stumbled backwards, holding his knee. He dropped to his knees, dropping both his clubs. His eyes bulged as blood seeped between his fingers.

Quaraun spun and darted into a nearby doorway. Behind him, one attacker groaned and tried to get up. As soon as he moved, one of the cursed daggers lashed out and connected with his neck. The attacker collapsed onto the floor.

Quaraun turned his attention to the second assailant who managed to pull himself to his feet.

Quaraun didn’t give his attacker enough time for a proper fight. A fireball exploded from his mouth, setting the room on fire.

The attacker screamed as Quaraun ran forward and plunged the enchanted dagger into the bandit's chest. The assassin dropped back to the ground, twitching as his body was consumed by flames.

The remaining assassin, still standing on his injured leg, swung his club at Quaraun. The old wizard jumped to the side, allowing the blow to miss.

The assassin growled. He then turned around, ready to charge. Before he could attack again, a large, green blur rushed past him, knocking the attacker down once more. It took no time at all before the creature stood over him, looking down at the fallen foe.

Its head whipped around and looked back at Quaraun. Its eyes were yellow. It raised it's left arm. It began to glow. The light grew brighter until suddenly it burst apart, revealing... a dragon?

The dragon stared down at the unconscious warrior. Then, without so much as glancing over at it, the dragon turned and charged towards the door behind Quaraun, leaving it open. Without so much as a glance back, the dragon vanished into the hallway, taking the door with it.

Quaraun darted into another doorway, then another. After about thirty seconds, he finally reached a dead end.

He stopped, turning around and surveying his surroundings. The room he stood in was large, but it ended abruptly at a stone wall. The two daggers floated back to him and obediently took their place at his side. His eyes fell on the dead end. If he went down the steps at the far end, it would take him to the bottom of the stairs.

There was nowhere else to go.

So he did.

After stepping off the steps, the stone floor crunched beneath his feet. He walked down the hallway for a couple of meters and stopped, glancing both ways, taking in the room. It contained nothing except a desk, some chairs, shelves, and a door.

He glanced at the door.

To his surprise, it opened easily and swung inward, exposing the corridor beyond. A small room opened to one side of the corridor.

Quaraun stepped inside. He closed the door and looked around. A wooden chair sat beside the desk, pushed against a wall. He approached it slowly, monitoring his surroundings.

“Hello?” he called.

No answer.

The old Elf cautiously stepped closer to the table. Quaraun set his pink heart-shaped bag on the table and began rummaging through it. Once he’d found what he needed, he pulled a book from his pink bag. The old wizard carelessly put his pack on the floor and set his two daggers beside it. He then carefully placed the book on top of his pack.

He reached into his pocket and took out his wand and pointed it at the book. With a flick, the book burst into flames, leaving nothing behind but ashes.

Quaraun sighed.

“Well that won’t work.”

He picked up his bags. He left the room.

Quaraun made his way down the hall. Once again the sound of stones crunching under his boots sounded like thunderous claps of thunder. His hair stood on end as if the very air itself had an energy. Quaraun shivered and turned another corner.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered.

The old wizard peered into one of the rooms and then peeked inside. As usual, there was no sign of life. He sighed heavily and went on his way, making sure not to get lost on his way back. After a few more turns, the hallway ended with a single large doorway. He paused for a moment and looked into the room.

It was a bedroom.

There were two bedside tables.

One had a lamp on it while the other had a vase of flowers.

A soft light shone on the bed and a warm breeze blew gently in from outside, carrying with it a faint scent of flowers. Quaraun could see a pair of slippers sitting on the floor beside the bed. He smiled. They seemed like such sweet, simple things. So typical of Humans. He couldn’t help but think how odd they are.

Quaraun moved towards the windows.

“I hate being here,” he muttered.

Then Quaraun moved towards the chair. When he reached the chair, he sat. It creaked softly under his weight. He leaned back and rested his hands on the arms of the chair.

He waited.

An hour passed.

The sun outside began to set. The shadows grew long, deepening the room. Still, nothing had changed. Not even the sound of a horse approaching could be heard. It was odd, the level of silence in this town, in this house even.

Quaraun shivered, than glanced around the room. It was getting cold, in this place. Unusually cold, frigid even. As though a Lich's frost was encasing the outside of the building. And there was no fireplace nor wood stove to be seen. He was wearing only thin silk robes, not nearly warm enough for the intense chill that filled this stone walled cellar room. He had hoped to find a place to light a fire and warm himself, but it appeared this cellar was mostly used by it's resident as a reading room, and served no purpose otherwise as living quarters.

Quaraun heard a sound.

"Hello?"