by Tony Roberts
Faer spat blood from her swelling mouth, then wiped her cut lip on her hand. Blood. She looked at her sword. Gathering what strength she had left she spat again onto her blade and wiped her hand along the cold hard steel.
Something came alive in her hand and she raised her sword just as Seltonas drew his blade back for the final time. Fire shot from the sword and enveloped the elf’s head. He went backwards, screaming in terror and pain, and a whiff of burning flesh reached her senses. She touched her mouth to the blade, using its power to heal her injury, her strength fading fast. As she sank to the floor, she saw Seltonas fall, his head aflame. The clattering of his blade striking the wooden floorboards was the last thing she registered as blackness came down and cloaked her.
She slowly regained consciousness, drifting in and out of awareness. She heard voices, one or two she recognised but couldn’t quite place, and then the darkness reclaimed her. The veil lifted again and smells came to her – clean smells, sharp smells. She must have gone again for it was a sudden sound that startled her to awareness. She opened her eyes and looked around her.
She was on a bed, and a curtain was surrounding it. Two guards stood at the foot of the bed, severe expressions on their faces. She moved her arms feebly and groaned. They hurt. One guard turned and spoke to someone behind and not in Faer’s line of sight. Then Blademaster Territus appeared and looked down at her with a blank expression. “How do you feel?” he asked.
“Terrible – weak.”
“What do you remember?”
She thought for a moment. The fight came into her memory. She swung her legs and sat up. The guards snapped into alert posture, spears coming down to a defensive position. Territus waved them to relax. She looked confused, then shut her eyes. “Seltonas killed Grange and smashed my room up. He was looking for my…” she looked up in alarm.
Territus held up his hand. “I know what you’re referring to. Continue.”
“Where is it?” she asked looked around. She was still in the clothing she had been wearing in Seltonas’ hall.
“All in good time. Continue.”
“Well, I knew it was him, so I went to his room, and he had four men with him.”
“Mercenaries trained here, good men.”
She looked up. “Killers. Assassins. Seltonas ordered them to kill me. I killed them,” she said quietly. “Then Seltonas and I fought – he nearly won until I used my…you-know-what.”
Territus nodded. “Unsurprisingly your version differs somewhat from Seltonas’. He claims you killed Grange in a fit of madness, smashed up your own room and then stormed into his hall, slaying the four Kaltinar mercenaries before turning on him.”
“Is he alive?”
“Just. He’s not expected to live. He said he wants to see you.”
Faer slid her feet to the floor and tried to stand. Her legs wobbled and she sat down again. She paused. “How could I have killed poor Grange? Why would I have? The wounds on his body were far too big for my blade.”
Territus looked out of the gap in the curtains at the end of the bed, then turned back. “I agree. Also I doubt Seltonas could see you wrecking your own room. Clumsy lie, but he’s not feeling himself as you’ll see.” He turned to the guards. “Help her.”
The guards hesitated.
“Oh come on you two,” the Blademaster said testily, “she’s hardly going to do anything in that state, is she?”
The two men each reluctantly took an arm and guided Faer out of the curtained-off alcove and through what was the main room of the infirmary. At the end was another curtained-off bed and more guards. Territus led the group through the curtain. Faer saw Seltonas – or the person she assumed was he – lying on the bed. His head was covered in bandages and cloth. The smell of burned flesh was overpowering. “He has no face,” Territus said.
The figure stirred. “Iss shee herrre?”
“Yes,” Faer answered shakily.
“Ssspawn of evil, you will now plague the land. I wasss the lassst hope. There issss none now.”
“You’re mad,” Faer said. “You are the evil one, murdering my friend. I did nothing except defend myself.”
“Whooo believessss a dark elffff? Your raccccce issss the bane of the world. I mussst return to rid the world of your pressssenccce.” His hand went into a claw spasm and he shook. Then he fell still.
Faer put her hand to her mouth and turned away. Territus nodded to the senior nurse and waved the guards to follow Faer and himself. “Blade, we must talk.”
She nodded, and followed the Blademaster back to his room. Her legs were getting stronger and she didn’t need any further help. Territus allowed her to sit on a stool before his desk while he went round and sat down. Two guards hovered in the doorway but went out when he waved them to do so. As the door closed he placed his hands on the desk and sighed. “It seems, Faerowyn, that whenever anything bad happens here you’re in the middle of it.”
“Or Seltonas.”
Territus put his hands to his temples. If you were my daughter I’d…”
Faer hung her head. “I’m sorry Master – but he did it. He killed poor Grange. He was looking for my sword, he wanted it as you rightly said. Where is it?”
“Here,” Territus picked up the weapon in its sheath and placed it on his desk. “We compared wounds on the four dead assassins and Grange and found Grange had been killed by a different and bigger weapon. What you say has more of a ring of truth to it than what Seltonas said.”
“How long have I been unconscious?”
“Most of the night. I don’t know what to do with you now, girl.”
“I have to go soon, but maybe not as urgently now that Seltonas has passed away. Do you think there are others like him around, wanting my sword?”
Territus nodded. “Without a doubt – which is why I would prefer you to go sooner rather than later. No offence young lady but your continued presence here puts us in danger. You must go follow your father’s path, wherever that may be.”
“Home,” she answered, “or what was home.”
Territus nodded. “Markus.”
“Heh, yes,” she said. “You knew I would go back there, didn’t you?”
“Just let me say I had an inspired guess. So when do you plan to leave?”
“After I say my goodbyes to my friends, turn eighteen and enjoy a leaving and birthday party. I missed out in the summer and I don’t intend to do so again. Besides, I have a dress I’m bursting to show off.”
“So when is that?”
“Seven days. Then I go.”
Territus nodded heavily. “Then all that remains is for me to give you a couple of things.” He reached into his drawer, searched for a moment, then passed her a rolled up scroll. “A list of your wealth. You’re a rich lady, Faerowyn. That veinstone went for a lot of coin, and we made a fortune out of it ourselves, as did the broker. You got eighty-five percent of it and you’re richer than most people.”
She looked stunned. “But-but…”
“You can afford to buy a nice town house and settle down in modest prosperity and live out your life in comfort. If you choose to do so.”
Faer looked at the scroll. “I have to follow father’s trail and see where that takes me! I’m not the settling down type anyway. Not now I’ve learned how to fight and use my other powers.”
“That’s what I thought. So, the details of where to get this money is with the scroll too. Keep that on you.”
“Thank you.” She looked dazed. “And the second thing?”
“Out in the stables is a mare, a grey mare. It is yours. You have a saddle, blanket, harness, tack and bags. You’ll need it where you are going.”
“I-don’t know how to ride!”
“Then you have seven days in which to learn, Faerowyn.”
She smiled her thanks. “What about the dead? What’s going to happen to them all?”
Territus explained the four assassins would be quietly buried as they had no family and were not real
ly recognised as being connected with the school. Assassins were not normally formally identified with anyone for obvious reasons. Grange would be buried in the fortress cemetery at the foot of the mountain, while Seltonas would be burned in the elven manner. The rumours of what happened remained to be faced. Territus said that the story would be that Grange was killed by the assassins who infiltrated the school and then attacked her and Seltonas and in the fight all assassins died and Seltonas was struck down by a last defiant fireball and she was nearly killed.
Nobody would really believe it but that would be the official story. Faer, in the meantime, would learn how to ride, at least in a basic manner, and be rehoused in a room in the main complex. There were spare rooms there for visitors and dignitaries. Not many came in winter.
Word spread about the forthcoming Winter Party and the main dining hall was prepared. Her friends were all saddened by the announcement she was to leave, but they all recognised that she had outgrown all her classmates, and the death of Grange had clearly affected her. Grange was buried on a snowy winter morning, and Seltonas turned into ashes high up on the rim of the fortress.
With both send-offs done, the party was looked forward to as the perfect way of cheering everyone up. Faer prepared herself in her room, a much more comfortable one, one that didn’t have wind whistling through it for one thing. She missed Grange though, and often in the few nights that she was there she waited for him to come knocking, and had to remind herself that once again she was alone.
You’re not alone came an indignant voice in her head.
“Oh you don’t count,” she said to herself testily.
Enslave another; I’d love it.
“Silence. There’s a party to look forward to. You’ll love it. Now behave.” At times she quite enjoyed the exchanges inside her head, and wondered if it was a sign of madness or not. She knew the duality of her heritage was the reason but did others hear voices like she did? Or, rather, one voice. A very wicked, mischievous Dark Elf voice. She smiled to herself as she applied the eye-liner on the evening of her party. Her Dark Elf dress fitted her nicely, and all she was wearing underneath it was a small – very small – loin cloth. That’d set tongues wagging she predicted.
Then the lip colouration. Mmmm. She surveyed herself in her small hand mirror. Yes, she was as ready as she’d ever be. Taking a deep breath, she stood up and twirled. She ran her hands down the front of her dress. Her breasts were just about covered up – to a point – so she’d have to be careful about turning too suddenly.
She thought of Grange for a moment. “Well, Grange, I’ll miss you. This is just as much a party to remember you by than my birthday and leaving celebration. At least it is for me.”
Taking a deep breath she left her room and walked down the corridor towards the dining hall. On her feet were two heeled shoes, dainty things of black. She had found them hard to get used to at first but persisted and now could walk reasonably well if it was slow. Too fast and all dignity and balance vanished.
How did the walk go? She wondered to herself as she went. Ah yes, one foot forward, the other foot in front of it, nice and slow. Makes the hips roll. She’d seen some of the other senior girls do it and noticed how the boys and men turned their heads to watch.
The voices came to her as she neared the hall, and laughter. Music, too. The fortress had certainly turned out in force. Not many parties were held in winter so it made a nice change to the dark nights and coldness of the outdoor. There was a small group outside the entrance and they turned to watch her approach, mouths dropping open. She reached them and smiled. “Hello,” she said softly.
“What – wow, Blade!” a senior said, eyes trying to work out where was best to look. “What a dress! By the gods…”
“Don’t think the dress is what you’re interested in,” came a dry female voice next to him.
“Ah, come on now, love, I’m only being friendly. Ow!”
Faer chuckled and glided into the hall. It was almost full. She stood there a moment, surprised, and overwhelmed. Gradually the place fell silent as more and more realised she was there, and she suddenly felt self-conscious. Her eyes dropped and the whistles began. A murmur rose and the males began to converge on her.
She was rescued by a hand sliding round her right arm by the elbow and holding her in a properly respectful manner. “Blade, if I may be so bold?” Blademaster Territus asked. She looked at him and saw he was attired in a very smart yellow and black padded tunic, black leggings and a frilled jacket at the wrists and neck. He looked very dashing.
She beamed. “Of course, Blademaster.”
“Tonight, you call me Territus. Come, let the party begin.”
They walked to the top of the hall and the band prepared itself for the first dance. Territus held her hand up. “May I have the honour of the first dance?”
“I-I don’t know how to!” she whispered in horror.
“Then,” he snaked one hand around her back and clamped her to him, “you follow my lead.”
She was pressed against him, her head coming up to his chest. He smiled down at her and the music began. He began to gently guide her back, then around, back again, around again, then he pulled her gently forward, around, and so on. He then bent his head. “Relax, lady, just enjoy yourself. The others all are.”
As she whirled, she saw dozens of other pairs doing the same.
Then the wine arrived and that’s when things got a little less structured.
EIGHTEEN
A pounding headache. “Oh my head,” she moaned. She sat up. Bad idea. Lie down again. She tried once more and sat there, her hands to her pounding temples. “Oh my head!”
“Morning, Blade,” Territus greeted her cheerfully. He was sat in his chair drinking his early morning infusion. “Hangover?”
“Uh, if my head’s going to explode and a flock of diseased birds have nested in my mouth, then yes.”
“Been there, done it many times. Welcome to adult life.”
“What happened?”
“When, Blade?” He clapped his hands, causing her to wince. The door opened and a young messenger appeared. “Strong infusion for the lady here.” The messenger bowed and vanished.
“Last night.” She realised she was still wearing her dress and showing far too much breast to the Blademaster. She tried to adjust her fabric.
“From when? What was the last thing you remembered?”
“Oh – dancing with you, then the wine, then another dance… I swapped partners to that senior fellow, what’s his name?”
“No idea, you danced with nearly everyone, Blade.”
“Did I?” she said sharply. Another wince. “Did I?” she repeated much more softly. “Then – nothing.”
“Oh so that’s when she took over then.”
“What? Who? You mean…?”
“Yes, your other self. The Dark Elf. She really knew how to party.”
“Oh no! What did she do…what did you do?” she asked much more forcefully to herself.
Territus looked on with amusement as Faer’s face went through a gamut of emotions. “Well? What did she say?”
“She’s laughing. Bitch! Please, Blademaster – tell me, please!”
“Well, let me see. After three drinks you went careering along the floor, showing your legs in a wild dance you insisted was Keria’s most popular evening dance. It looked more like who’s-got-the-best-legs-in-town display. Maybe Dark Elf women love to show off their figures. I don’t know. All I do know is you did a tremendous job in bringing the Dark Elf culture closer to humans. They loved it, every one of them, including the women.”
“Really? Why? How?”
“Well, it must have been when you grabbed hold of Quenia and pulled her out onto the floor, ripped her lovely dress from the hem up to her waist and forced her to follow your lead along the line of ogling men.”
Faer covered her face with her hands.
Territus permitted the messenger to enter upon knocking, and th
e boy brought Faer a steaming mug of strong infusion. He grinned at the girl, turned around and left. She looked at Territus in distress.
“Oh you’re going to be popular wherever you go this morning, I can tell you. Drink that, it’ll settle your stomach down.”
“What did Quen think about me ruining her dress?”
“She was shocked at first, then after you dragged her along the line and found she got as many whistles and cheers in showing her legs – quite nice they are too, I may say – the began enjoying herself. Then other girls joined in, tearing their skirts and what have you, and we had more legs on display than at a stables. The boys loved it too, and next thing everyone’s joining in on some odd modern dance I have no idea of. Ah well, if most of our people here are youngsters, they’ll bring these new things with them.”
“And-and what of you, Master?”
“Me? I’m far too old for these energetic ones so I sat down and watched. It was an education. Tell me, where did you learn to dance that Sea Spin?”
Faer’s heart sank. “Sea Spin?”
“Yes – a very high tempo spin dance. Not one you should do with a split in the dress I may add, nor with a dress that can’t contain your breasts, but it was very popular with the men.”
“Ohhh nooo,” Faer wanted the floor to open up and swallow her.
“But then things went a little downhill.”
She looked up, aghast. “Do I want to hear this?”
“I can shut up now if you want, Blade, and maybe one of the others tell you.” He smiled and sipped his drink, smacking his lips in appreciation.
“No – no! Please, tell me, although I know I’m going to regret hearing it.”
Territus looked up, thinking hard. “It was the moment you got up on one of the tables and demanded Dark Elf Blood Wine that things got wild.” Faer looked on in horror. “Well, of course, we don’t have that but someone fetched a really potent full-bodied red from the cellar and poured you what I can only describe as a generous amount. You threw it down in one and declared it was passable before falling off the table into the arms of one of the seniors.”