Double Life - Book 1 of the Vaiya Series

by Vaiya Books

  Azadar wasted no time in responding. “Because dwarves often hire humans to do their espionage for them, as they themselves are naturally clumsy and make poor spies.” Clutching his basket tighter, clearly growing frustrated, Azadar shot an accusation at Ian. “Based upon your ragged apparel and peculiar disposition, you’d be just the person they’d hire.”

  Ian nearly exploded. “What’s that supposed to--?”

  The elf cut him short. “Do not attempt to fool me, boy. I know your kind too well, and I’m not going to explain anything else to you that you pretend not to know.”

  Ian just gave him a confused look; even a semester-long course in Jimmy’s fantasy lore couldn’t prepare him for this. Who ever heard of humans spying for dwarves? He surely hadn’t.

  However, from the wave of impatience that swept across the elf’s face, apparently Azadar thought that this knowledge was rudimentary. “Is your head buried inside of a tree, human?” he asked roughly.

  His rude remark awakened Ian from his stupor, rejuvenating his annoyance for the elf, as Ian realized that, whether he liked it or not, it wasn’t possible to get on his good side. Azadar entirely loathed him, and, unless a miracle happened, would never see him in a different light.

  Burning with fury towards the elf at this awareness, Ian no longer cared about appeasing him anymore. If Azadar got violent and aggressive, Ian would just have to hope that he were the stronger fighter.

  Pausing much longer than he should have, knowing that the elf thoroughly hated it, Ian then repaid his insulting question with a spiteful comment of his own. “Not at the moment,” returned Ian impudently, in his most sarcastic voice, one he’d picked up from Eddy. “Though I’m sure we could remedy that.”

  Not amused, finally catching onto his sarcasm, Azadar frowned deeply at him. His elf companions were restless; he was impatient. “Who sent you here?”

  Taken off guard by his unexpected question, Ian hesitated slightly, before replying, “No one.”

  His blunt words were not received kindly. Azadar gave him a silent scowl, while the blonde female took two brisk steps towards him and grasped his arms, locking them in place, making it impossible for him to try to run away. She was unusually strong, even stronger than she looked.

  After giving him a prolonged look of coldness, possibly trying to intimidate him, she finally said, “There are two ways we can go about this, Ian. Either you can start being honest with us, or you can continue to lie to us.” She gripped his arm tighter. “If you continue to spew forth lies though, I warn you, we will be forced to lock you up in our dungeon. Understand?” She smiled callously at him, before resuming, as if she were talking to a ten year old, “So, let’s try this again. Who sent you here to spy out our kingdom?”

  Ian frowned. This conversation was quickly getting out of control. “What do you want me to say?”

  The female sunk her head as her smile vaporized, her tone brimming with bitter sarcasm. “The truth. What else?”

  This was seriously getting old. About to lose his temper, Ian clenched his fists as he replied, “The lightning sent me.”

  She didn’t even blink an eyelid. “As I expected,” she replied, looking not at all annoyed by his answer. “So you’re of the Storm Order then.” She smiled deviously, as she asked her next question, “So, what were your plans?”

  “To get out of this forest,” snapped Ian.

  “And then what?” she asked, with the easy tone of a professional salesperson.

  “I don’t know; maybe find a nice village or city to stay in.”

  She just grinned at his answer, as if he’d given her all the information she needed, before releasing her anaconda grip on his arms. “Thanks for guiding me to the gardens, Ian. I’m sure your dwarf leader Dhianté will be much displeased to lose such a loyal member.”

  Ian cringed in disgust and terror. Dhianté, what kind of name was that for a dwarf? It sounded more like the name of a rap star. And why did she automatically assume that he was following this person? What kind of ridiculous logic was she using?

  As he just glared at her hoping she’d clarify herself, she tapped her feet on the ground instead and spoke nonchalantly, revealing none of her reasoning, “Come with us to the Nakar Dungeon, Ian.”

  “What?” He stood paralyzed with fear, a wave of shock rolling over him at her indifferent tone, even as he half-hoped she wasn’t being serious. “I thought you said you’d let me go if I told the truth.”

  The female elf just smirked, deeply amused by his response. “I never promised you that. And, besides, you didn’t tell us the truth. The lightning sent me? What kind of simpleton response is that?”

  “But the Storm Order,” blurted out Ian, his face turning a deep crimson. “You said that--”

  “That idea came solely from my imagination,” she interjected. “Honestly, how foolish are you?”

  Ian scowled, trying his very hardest not to lose his temper. “If I’m so dumb, then why would I be a spy?”

  She smiled. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

  Ian about lost it. It took him a few seconds of fuming before he was able to speak again.

  “Why don’t I tell you?” he spat out. “I’ll tell you why. Because I’ve got nothing to tell!”

  The elven woman took a step back, a bit surprised by his outrage, yet still far from intimidated by him. A slight look of annoyance on her face, she added, “You are making this way harder than it should be, Ian. Confess your guilt now and we may lessen your sentence. Hesitate, and we will be forced to bring severe retribution upon you.”

  Ian spiraled completely out of control. “I seriously don’t believe this!” he shouted. “All I did was take a nap here and yet you treat me like a criminal. Where’s your sense of justice?”

  Instead of the female replying, however, as Ian had expected, Azadar took over the conversation, glaring at him, jerking his head to the side disdainfully, his voice chilling like the frostbitten air before a wintry sunrise: “If you were honest and pure we would not have to use these tools against your soul.”

  “Tools against my soul?” he muttered, growing even angrier by the fact that he didn’t have a clue what Azadar was talking about. “All I did was rest under a tree and I’m accused of spying? Come on!”

  Frustration dictating his tone, Azadar gazed at him maliciously. “We do not pity those who receive injuries doing Zharmun’s work,” he replied poetically, as if reciting a mantra. “Nor do we show any mercy to those beneath our status.”

  Beneath our status? So this guy actually was a monster.

  Holding back his wrath, Ian gave up on this fruitless argument, not even caring to ask who Zharmun was, as he was obviously someone else he should already know, some wicked person like Dhianté. That he’d been accused of following this Zharmun made him even more furious.

  Sick of being criticized, Ian haphazardly switched his gaze from the leader to the other male elf who hadn’t said a word yet, observing a deep anger brooding over his face.

  Uncertain what this meant for him, Ian remained quiet as he watched the silent elf step forward and face the leader with grief swirling in his dark green eyes.

  “Have you finished accusing him yet, Azadar?” questioned the elf sternly. “Or do you still have more slanders to pour out on him?”

  Stunned, Azadar glared at him darkly, malice crawling through his eyes like centipedes, before replying brutally, “By the king’s throne, he is as guilty as death, Evlan. Just look at him? Those are not the eyes of the innocent.”

  Peering at him keenly, Evlan thoroughly inspected Ian, staring rigorously at his hair color, his eyes, his face, his clothing, everything about him, searching for an answer.

  After what seemed like forever to Ian, he eventually turned back to the leader, a confident reply on his lips: “I disagree. He looks bewildered, tense, and even irritated, but not wicked. If you had any sense you could see the boy was telling the truth.”

  Unholy eyes of a wraith
, Azadar took in the elf, his forehead wrinkling, jagged lines crisscrossing across his face. But only for a second, before a much more composed self took control of his emotions, causing a thin smile to suddenly flicker across his face. “This is lunacy, Evlan, and you know it.” His voice resounded with unwavering authority. “By Queen Jahla’s scepter, I swear you’d let a murderer slip by just because he answered you politely.”

  “No, I wouldn’t,” he argued, cautiously choosing his words, steeling his eyes against his companion’s overbearing demeanor. “I can tell a murderer from a harmless boy any day, Azadar, and as the vines grow, this human is entirely pure.”

  Azadar’s eyes darkened. Then he just laughed. “As pure as any human can be,” he retorted, a hateful smirk on his lips, “which is filthier than dirt.”

  As Evlan paused angrily deep in thought over this grating response, Ian, still leaning hard against the tree, stared at Azadar and pointed far off into the woods. Though glad to have some sympathy from Evlan, he was, nonetheless, entirely horrified by this whole conversation. “Hey!” he shouted, grabbing their attention, as images of his near escape from death flashed through his mind. Why he didn’t think of mentioning this sooner was a mystery to him. “You’re wasting your time with me, man. If anything, you should worry about those three gray-cloaked sorcerers out there who nearly killed me.”

  Suddenly, as if he’d spoken a magic word, a dark, terrible one, the elves’ eyes lit up; the atmosphere grew tense. Azadar, however, remained mostly unfazed. “You make quite a claim by saying that you’ve been pursued by the Elayans,” he spoke with slight uncertainty, “for their kind was annihilated by the Great Plague in Zerinus over two and a half centuries ago.” His eyes darted like fire. “What was the symbol you said was sewn into their robes?”

  He bit back his anger. “I never mentioned it.”

  “Then illuminate our minds,” Azadar replied with mock curiosity, fully regaining his audacity.

  Recalling the emblazoned lightning insignia embroidered on the gray men’s tunics, Ian responded brusquely: “They wore a yellow lightning bolt symbol.”

  A hush descended. The elves shifted on their feet; the female elf backed away even further from him, clearly frightened. Evlan stared at Ian, wary and disconcerted. But the leader remained unimpressed, adding a slather of arrogance to his tone:

  “Yes, that is the symbol of royalty--the one the Elayan rulers are known to have worn. I’m glad you at least know your history, boy.”

  Seeing his plan completely foiled, Ian swirled into a storm of rage. Here he’d thought mentioning the sorcerers would help his cause. Now he saw it had little to no effect. It was completely aggravating.

  “I don’t know any history,” shouted Ian, face now flushed with anger. “All I know is that these sorcerers wanted to murder me.”

  Azadar’s mouth grew tight. “Then how did you escape death?”

  He winced. “They gave up chasing me after they thought they’d killed me.” He glanced at the leader and then at the other two elves, gnawing pain in his voice, “Would’ve you been glad if I’d died?”

  A short pause. “No,” said Azadar firmly, possible doubt crossing his face at Ian’s vague survival explanation. “You may be useful.”

  Ian kicked the dirt. “Just what do you plan on doing with me?”

  “We will secure you in the Nakar Dungeon and interrogate you until we find out why you’re here and who sent you. For,” he added, a devious grin on his face, “if you think for a moment that we believe your little story about the Elayans, you’re more foolish than a one-legged dwarf trying to outrun an elf. I’ve heard better tales from a drunken pirate.”

  But Ian barely even heard his insults. All he could think about was how he was going to be locked up in this prison and how brutal the interrogation procedure was going to be.

  Though he’d previously hoped that the female elf was just trying to intimidate him when she’d mentioned the dungeon, now he saw grimly that she was speaking the truth.

  Terror gripping his face like hawk talons at this realization, Ian struggled to remain calm. He’d read horror stories of dungeons in the medieval ages where the prisoner never received any food or water and ended up dying of thirst or being tortured to death. He wanted no part of that.

  His only chance to avoid such a terrible death was to try to persuade them to believe him. Thinking briefly over what to say, he gave it the best shot he had. “So you honestly think I made up that story?” he asked, rather meekly, given the circumstances. “What do I have to gain?”

  A sneer crossed Azadar’s face. “Everything. You want us to look for these fabrications so you can escape.”

  Ian paused just long enough to bring some coherence to his raging thoughts. “You’re wrong,” he shot back angrily, his soft voice thrown out the door. “Of course I’d come with you.”

  A bit surprised by his words, Azadar glanced over at the female elf and then back at Ian; if it meant anything, a trace of confusion was now etched into his brow. Unfortunately though, his condescending tone still remained. “We would love to help you search for these enemies of King Kadeth, human,” he began, after a brief pause, a deep smirk on his face. “However, we need to arrive back at the palace before the evening feast.”

  Ian’s heart sank in despair at these words. Though he’d hoped that the elf would’ve let him investigate the forest, as it would lend extreme credibility to his story if they were to find the Elayan, he now saw that this was never going to happen. Now, without any way to prove his innocence, he’d probably never leave the dungeon until he died.

  Embittered, he glanced at them for any signs of compassion, but saw none, not even in Evlan. Fury clawed into his heart: “You can’t do this to me!” he shouted as he swept his eyes over all of them. “You can’t prove anything.”

  A heartless look swept over the leader’s face as he smiled sadistically, revealing his draconian nature. “We do not need to. Justice has already proven you guilty.” He would say no more on the subject. Turning to his fellow elves, who exchanged hesitant glances with each other, he stared at them, his face expressionless. “We are done for the day.”

  “But we--”

  “No. We have collected enough, sister.” He gazed at the female elf, an autocratic tone in his voice. “Our king will understand.”

  Seemingly consenting to his wishes, they both stared at him in mute agreement, uncertainty clinging to Evlan’s face; even if he’d wanted to help Ian before, he now looked highly doubtful about Ian’s allegiance and even slightly antagonistic. He was just like the rest of them.

  As for Azadar, emboldened by their compliance, a proud smirk on his face reminiscent of one of Kenn’s worst expressions, he motioned to them, and he and his sister came into formation behind Ian, escorting him towards the Nakar Dungeon.

  Ian’s heart leapt within him--this couldn’t be happening. He didn’t deserve this. He’d done nothing wrong and yet these elves treated him like a common thief. Some sense of justice they had. They would sooner give up their right hand than give him a fair trial and let him go.

  Fear penetrating into his soul, Ian watched as dark visions flashed before his eyes, launching Sandler’s haunting words to the forefront of his mind: “I hope you have nightmares, boy.”

  Whether Sandler had truly cursed him at school today, he didn’t know. One thing he knew for certain, though; his life was never going to be the same again.

  Chapter 5

  Selecting one of the heavier bowling balls from the short rack, the added weight seeming to help him shoot straighter, Eddy stood to the side, awaiting Samantha’s response to the infamous 7-10 split she’d given herself. Based on her previous throws, sluggishly slow, deviously crooked with a heavy bent to the left, and delicate, as if the object of the game were to avoid knocking over even a single bowling pin, she’d more than likely miss both, putting her fifty points behind him.

  And sure enough, Samantha made another one of her famous gutte
r ball shots, causing him to laugh rather loudly, for as skilled as she was at ping pong--she’d gotten into the top six--she sure didn’t carry it with her into bowling.

  Watching the pins mechanically set themselves up again, he stepped towards the lane, black bowling ball in hand, when a tap on the shoulder stopped him.

  “Sorry to interrupt.” Tianna combed back her long brunette hair with her hand, her pretty face both troubled and worried. “But whatever happened to your friend Ian?”

  “He went upstairs,” said Eddy nonchalantly, while setting his bowling ball onto the ground and turning around to face her, inwardly surprised that she was so concerned for his friend, and even more surprised that she was talking to him, as she rarely said anything to him at school....

  “Is he ok?” Her words echoed into his mind, bringing him back to reality, as she took out a handheld mirror from her pink leather purse and examined herself, patting down the snow-white rose on the back of her hair.

  Eddy refocused on her, shaking away his thoughts, a bit confused by her sudden worry. “I don’t see why he wouldn’t be.”

  But she wasn’t convinced. “Are you positive? Cuz I haven’t seen him for half an hour.”

  Here Eddy put his hands in his pockets and just laughed. He’d never seen her so serious before. “Don’t worry, Tianna; he’s probably having a good time.”

  But she shook her head worriedly as if not believing his statement. “I checked the kitchen and the living room … and I didn’t see him anywhere.” She slipped the mirror back into her purse. “I think we should look for him.”

  He smiled cunningly. “You like him, don’t you?”

  “No, that’s not it,” she murmured, running a hand through her hair. “I’m just concerned.”

  His smile grew wider. “And why’s that?”

  Like a skateboarder who’d performed a stunt for the first time, surprise radiated from her face. “Didn’t you see his face when he lost to Darien? He looked hurt.”

  Eddy nodded his head and just grinned. Though he felt somewhat bad for his friend, Ian’s bitterness and self-pity after losing any kind of game had become such a common occurrence that he paid it little attention anymore. Actually, he forced himself not to think about it, for the more he looked into it, the more it annoyed him. His friend had to develop a thicker shell. His negative attitude was ridiculous; he could win ten times at something, like a video game or basketball, and then lose once, and he’d still complain, completely forgetting about all his previous victories. Ian had to stop letting a simple loss ruin his day. A game was just a game.