by Tony Roberts
A short while later she sat on Grange’s chair, tidying herself up. Grange was knelt by her side, peering up adoringly at her. His eyes were still dilated; she supposed he would be full of her essence for some time. She remembered the wave of feeling – seduction, she called it, not knowing what else to call it – that had risen from her and poured over the victim. To now control such a powerful man, it was a heady feeling. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to make it look less like she had been in a storm. She pondered on her dilemma. What to do with Grange now? Clearly his self-will had gone – probably for good. Would he follow her round everywhere now, like some shadow?
She knew what she had done would be seen by many to be wrong, but she hadn’t looked to do this; it had been forced on her. Yes, to enslave another to her was seen in some societies as bad – evil, even, but other societies seemed to tolerate it. What they were more sensitive about was the personal issue as here. A slave was a slave but generally had his or her own mind still; a dark elf enslavement was different. It robbed the victim of all free will and moulded them to their master, or mistress. No argument could break that.
She looked at him again. “Grange.”
“Mistress?” He had been told to call her Blade whenever in company, but he would call her mistress at every other time.
“You will stop pursuing Quen, do you understand”
“Yes, Mistress; she had no interest for me now.”
“I can see that; you only have me in your mind.”
“Yes.”
“Does it distress you that you no longer wish for anything other than to serve me?”
“No. You are all I wish for, Mistress.”
She finished with her hair. “Very well. You will continue as normal with your training. I want a slave who is fully trained and expert, and able to defend me no matter what the situation. Furthermore, it is to be a secret, your enslavement. You will not talk of me to anyone, and if anyone speaks of me you will seem to show no interest. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes Mistress, but why? You are the most wonderful, exquisite and sensational female I have ever met.”
“Because there are people here who may wish me harm; I do not want them to know of your loyalty to me. At nights, when I pretend to carry on my relationship with Limkel, you will guard my quarters. Let nobody in except for me.”
“Yes, of course, anything for you, Mistress.”
“Good, Grange – now find your reward for loyalty,” and she bent and kissed him fully, deeply and sensually. She forced some of the inner sensuality up and found she could detect it by a tingling on her tongue and fingers. Grange made muffled sounds of delight and when she broke the kiss his face showed mindless pleasure. Poor man, she thought. Well, now she had a subject on which to practice that ability. Heartless? Cold-bloodied? Perhaps, but it would not have happened if Grange had not tried to rape her. What was done was done and she couldn’t change it, and by practicing on someone already ruined – she grimaced at the choice of words, but she was right – she wouldn’t do any more harm to him. In fact, he would be beyond ecstasy.
“Sleep well Grange, and remember, tomorrow at breakfast you will show no sign of your new loyalty to me.”
“Mistress.”
She left, taking in a deep breath once she got outside, and looked at the stars. What was she turning into? These abilities – taken as granted in dark elf society, shocking in human. Where did she stand, how could she stand? What was she to do? Her mind a whirl, she returned to her room.
Grange kept to his word. He exchanged looks with her when she arrived and she nodded briefly. He sat down and concentrated on his meal, and never even looked at Quen. Quen had been crying, the signs were there. Limkel tried to jolly her up but she wouldn’t be brought out of her misery. Faer passed her on the way out and squeezed her hand. Quen squeezed back and smiled sadly.
Grange was not punished; Pappis refused to say who it had been who had injured him even though everyone knew. Once he was out Quen never left his side. Pappis looked at Faer beseechingly but she smothered a smile and shook her head. Your relationship, you sort it. Grange kept more and more to himself, and people suggested it was because he was remorseful at what he had done.
Faer helped pass this theory round when she could. Grange spent many evenings alone in her room, guarding it, with his sword. Everyone had brought a sword to the fortress, and this began to worry Faer as her training went on. She asked to see Blademaster Territus. A day later she was granted an audience.
“Come in, Dark Blade, come in. I haven’t seen you in many weeks. How are you finding the winter?”
“Fine, Master. Beautiful scenery, although it gets dark very early these days.”
“I know, but soon the days will begin to lengthen. What is it you wish to see me about?”
“I’m concerned that once my personal sword training is done and I’m up to the standard of the others, I’ll be asked to bring my sword, and Swordmaster Seltonas will know surely, what it is on sight.”
“Ah, I see what you are saying. Yes – that is so. We should not let him see it. Use one of the swords here. I have half a dozen locked away. Let me see – a smaller one. Hmm.” He picked out a short sword and looked at it, tutting. “Rusty, blunt. Get it cleaned and sharpened and it should suffice.”
“Thank you, Master.”
“Tell me, how are you? I’ve not received any complaints about you for some time. I was worried you had left.”
Faer laughed. “I’m doing very well thank you. Even Swordmaster Seltonas said I was progressing well. As for my other abilities, I am trying to control and discipline myself. That is more difficult but I think I’m making progress. It is frightening what is within me, but it is part of me so I should accept it and work to control it. Or so that’s what the Swordmaster says.”
“Wise words. How are the two of you getting along? It’s not the best of matches, is it?”
She smiled. “We – tolerate one another. Sometimes he pushes hard against me. At times I think he’s deliberately trying to make me lose my temper.”
“He does see how far he can go at times, but he has informed me from time to time that you answer him back. You are not supposed to, you know.”
“I know, Master, but I will not take some of the insults that are thrown at me, no matter who it is who utters them. For example,” she said, “my mother being called a whore.”
Territus narrowed his eyes. “Who said that?”
“One of the seniors, a while ago. I don’t know whether it was one he made up or did so under the Swordmaster’s instruction. All to test my discipline.”
“Hmm, that’s a little too far. I shall speak to Seltonas about that.”
“It’s in the past now and too long ago to bring back. So, I’ll get this weapon sharpened up and cleaned and then I’ll use that when requested. Thank you.” She bowed and left with the sword.
She got Grange to clean and sharpen it during one of the nights he was guarding her room while she and Limkel spent the evening swapping stories. It was then that the young man told her of some old books in the library. “Got pictures of elves in it, even.”
“What? Elves?” she snapped to full alertness. She had been bored with his tale of farming on the plainlands and what vermin they hunted when he was younger. He had then mentioned pictures of the vermin in the library reference books.
“Yeah – like Swordmaster Seltonas.”
“Any dark elves?”
He shrugged. “Dunno. Want to go see? Library should still be open, if that old goat Kuliman is awake on duty.”
“Old goat?”
“Ah. One of the old retainers who stayed on after his master died. Got useful in cleaning out the old reference rooms and sort of settled in the library.”
“How do you know all these things?” she asked, getting up from the dining table in the dining room. “I never know these little items of information.”
“Oh, I listen and learn to go
ssip, like you and Grange seem to be close these days.”
“Oh don’t go believing all you hear!”
Limkel sighed and scraped his toe on the ground. Then he looked up. “I really like you, Blade, I really do, but you’ve made it clear you’re not interested in me – in that way. No, let me finish. I know you did this with me just for Quen’s sake, and it worked. But Grange? Come on, he’s no scenic sight and a right old bully. I’m surprised at you! But,” he held out a hand as she opened her mouth once more, “it’s your life and I’m not going to mess about with it. Anyways, I‘ve been chatting to another girl in our hall, Filamina, and she’s nice and willing to kiss properly. So, no offence Blade but I’m going to go where the wind blows warmer. I’d like us to remain friends though – you’re really nice and lovely to know.”
Faer faced him and said nothing for a moment, then smiled wearily and nodded. “Nobody really fell for us two going together for long, did they? So the gossip is all about Grange and me?”
“Some really interesting ones, yes. I’d’ve never guessed you two would have, ah, hit it off, but just goes to show. Hope you don’t mind but Filamina has invited me to the springs this evening and I thought I’d make it a date.”
“Yes, you should. Go. I’ll go to the library and hunt out this book – what’s it called?”
“Warrior Races of the World. Can’t remember who printed it, but there’s some great colour illustrations.”
She kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you – and it’s been wonderful being steady with you. I’m not put out at being dropped. Good luck with the fair Filamina.”
He squeezed her shoulders, grinned, and went out towards the caverns. Faer turned in the opposite direction and went up the stairs to the entrance to the inner halls. The library was one of the doorways to the right and she pushed it open hesitantly. “Hello?” she said.
“Mmm? Oh, sshh!” an aged man appeared round the corner of a partition.
Faer put her hand to her mouth and tiptoed up to him. She whispered close to his ear. “Do you have the book Warrior Races of the World here at all? Illustrated tome, from what I’ve been told.”
The man nodded, pointing at a shelf unit off to the left where hundreds of thick bound dust jacketed books rested. She searched the shelves and finally spotted it, high up on the fourth shelf. She just reached it and tugged it out. It was a faded red book, dog-eared but still in one piece. She placed the large book on the nearest table and sat down.
She flipped the cover open and went past the introduction. Then came the contents and she ran her finger down them. Elves, it said. Pages 59-86. A lot of pages for the elves. She thumbed through the pages and pulled it open at the fifty-ninth page. A lot of writing met her eyes. Another page turned and there was a coloured illustration of a White Elf, like Seltonas.
She wasn’t interested in that, for the moment. Flicking through the next few pages, her heart pounding, she passed the Forest Elves and then stopped. Dark Elves. There they were. She looked entranced. Males, females, all types, head illustrations, combat armour, clothing, details. It was beautiful. Who had written this, and when? How did they have the knowledge then to do this when these days most people didn’t? She looked at the females. Their hair styles were fabulous. She realised her long hair style was so out of place. She got up and asked for a charcoal stick and parchment.
She sat back down and copied some of the hair styles. She also noticed the woman elves had eye liner, which contrasted with their deep blue-black skin. Her skin was deep brown, so maybe black eye liner? She wondered where she could get some from, and smiled. Then their lips caught her attention. They were blood red. How did they do that? She would have to find out.
She read the passages around the illustrations and her eyes grew wider and wider. She hadn’t been told everything about her father’s race, not by a long way. Had it been by accident or design? No matter, she now knew.
Putting the book back and folding the parchment and placing it into her pouch, she thanked the elderly librarian and ventured back outside. People were wandering around, talking, enjoying the cold air after hours indoors. The snow had stopped and she crunched through the soft white surface to the entrance to the only place alcohol was served in the fortress, the tavern.
Not a place she normally visited but this evening she had to see Quen. There she was, sat with Pappis at one of the tables at the entrance, oblivious of the cold so it seemed. Many of the tables were occupied and she drifted through the narrow gaps in between the chairs, noting who sat there and who acknowledged her, and who didn’t.
“Hello you two,” she greeted them, grabbing a spare chair and sitting down.
“Hey, Blade,” Pappis beamed at her. Quen’s face dropped a little.
“Not staying long; don’t want to spoil your evening. Got a favour to ask, Quen.”
The redhead sat up a little. “Oh? Me?”
“Sure. You always have beautiful hair, so wonderfully made and styled. How do you do it?”
Quen blushed. “Oh, it’s nothing – my mother in Theldra was a stylist. Taught me how to do my own hair.”
“I think it’s fabulous, Quen; your mother would be proud of you.”
Quen smiled with delight. “Oh really? That’s lovely of you to say. Why do you ask?”
“Well look at my seaweed,” Faer flicked her long locks that reached to her throat at the front and her shoulder blades at the back. “No style, no form. Nothing. I’d love you to cut and style it sometime. Only when you’ve got time, no hurry.”
Quen looked at her hair and ran her hand down it. “Wonderfully deep black. You want it curled? That’d be a long time to do that and I don’t know if I could do that.”
Faer pulled out her parchment. “Here, look at these; made some sketches. What one you think would suit me?”
Quen leaned round and edged closer to Faer with interest. Pappis rolled his eyes. Women! He got up. “Going to get some drinks. Quen? Blade?”
Quen looked up. “Eh? Oh, sorry. Another one of those please.”
Pappis nodded. “Blade?”
“Not for me thanks. I’ve got a date with my man.”
“Oh yes; saw Limkel going to the springs – meeting his new lady love isn’t he? Sorry to see you two break up, but you didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. So what’s it with the unlovely Grange? He got something we don’t know about?” he grinned.
Faer tutted. “Go get another drink, Pappis. Quen and I got important things to discuss.”
“Yeah, like hair styles,” Pappis said sarcastically. He waved and moved off into the tavern.
“You want to impress Grange or something, Blade?” Quen asked.
“Not really; I saw these drawings in a book in the library and thought a change of image would do me good. You know how it is; you get tired of the same old style after a while. Think it’d do me good to have a change. What do you think?”
“Oh yes I think so too.” Quen looked at the illustrations. “These are pretty good, Blade. Some of these…” she paused. “This one?” she held it up alongside Faer and looked from drawing to the half-elf. “Oh yes, this one I think.”
She showed Faer. It was the one with long side locks down to her jawline, her ears uncovered and the back going down to the nape of her neck. “Shows off your neck. Makes you look rebellious but sexy.”
Faer laughed briefly. “As if I need to encourage the boys anymore!”
“It’s you, Blade, it really is!”
“Could you do that? I’d really be grateful.”
Quen nodded. “Can’t see why not? Just don’t come to close to Pappis; he doesn’t behave well around you.”
“I know which is why I’m off in a moment. Don’t want to ruin your evening. Couple more things; where can I get dark eye liner and red for lips?”
“Wow you really going for the grown-up look?”
“I am seventeen now,” Faer said. “Time to leave my childhood behind. Want these tutors to take me seriously too
.”
“Most do; they think you’re one of the most dangerous students ever.”
“Oh, rubbish. Seltonas been moaning again? He never shuts up. If he was to be believed, I am the bringer of death and destruction to the entire world. He’s just irritated a dark elf is in his class.”
Quen nodded. “So why do White elves hate Dark Elves?”
Faer sighed. “Long story, lost in legends from what I read earlier on this evening. Something to do with a war thousands of years ago and the losers banished or something. None of the two sides really wanted to let it go and they have carried on the fight intermittently ever since.”
“Oh. Well, yes, eye liner and red for the lips. Got both in the fabric hall next to the laundrette. You can pick them up tomorrow. Come to my room after dinner and we’ll make you irresistible.”
“Provided Pappis is not there.”
“Bring Grange – he’ll make sure Pappis behaves.”
Faer chuckled. “Not a good idea but I could threaten him with Grange.”
“You know, you’ve really changed him. Before he was a real bully and intimidated people. Now he just concentrates on bettering himself with the sword and keeps to himself. Hardly speaks to anyone. Thankfully ignores me.”
Faer grinned. “I do have my uses after all.”
Quen giggled. Then she looked up. “Oh, here comes Pappis.”
“Right; will be off. Thanks Quen. Love you.” She kissed her friend on the cheek.
“Love you too,” Quen beamed and settled back in her chair next to Pappis’. The young man sat down and looked in surprise at the disappearing form of Faer.
“Where’s she going?”
“To the love of her life, Pappis, just like you are mine.”
He smiled sweetly at her.
The next day went slowly for Faer; much of that due to her impatience in getting her hair done. She got the black and red material from the hall next to the laundrette. The red was an extract of local berries that grew alongside the river, and the black was a solidified stick of a powder that was dug out of the ground on the slopes of Blade Mountain. Only small amounts were available at any one time but Faer was assured it was sufficient.