“Athaem?” She was understandably confused. “Why would he do that?!”
“Because, he is emotional and capable of being beyond the Veil at his father’s bidding. He came here as his brothers went to other world leaders, as the emissary. He is the only one who could have told them about the Qual.” Deh Leccend offered his hand again.
“You must come with me, Firea’csweise. We must stop Athaem. Mankind still has sixteen hours before their failure commences. He must not be allowed to start this war.”
“War?!” She gasped. “This isn’t a war! This is a massacre, Deh!”
“I know. It’s supposed to be. It must not become a war.” He took her hand by force and went out from their place of rest into the main hall to see the special operations soldiers, donning awkward but functional goggles. They were long and projected off the front of their faces like virtual reality visors and left them looking like black-garbed humanoid ducks. There were many of them, and Deh Leccend reversed his steps, pulling her back and away, passing straight through the nearest wall to disappear from sight.
Shannon’s heart was racing in her ears. She was afraid again. Forever afraid! She cursed herself. She cursed mankind, and the Elves. She just wanted it all to end, that she might go home again and see… She hesitated in thought.
What would she go home to? Her father?
“Do not be afraid, Firea’csweise, milady. They can see into the Veil of the Leaf’s Edge, but they lack the weaponry to be able to harm us whilst we’re within it. They may look but not touch. And they will only see if we cross their paths. That is how no one has ever seen us, despite the human affinity for glass. For one must see at the right angle, and have something to look at. That is why the Veil has a fringe, a doorstep, to begin with. A failsafe in the event they ever discovered the Qual. They would only see their own world, unchanged.” He led her away from the soldiers who would soon begin spreading through the whole of the governing house.
“Have you ever stood and looked out a window at a distant horizon and simply felt like time was taking an eternity?” He asked.
“Or ridden in your father’s vehicle when you were a child, staring at the passage of the world, and felt as though you were dreaming? That is the product of glass, allowing you to see into the fringe of the Veil of the Leaf’s Edge, but with nothing to truly perceive, aside from your own world, your kind doesn’t have the faculty necessary to become fully aware of it, lest you witness us on the other side. Again, another illusion of the mind.” He brought her to a halt in a dim corner, putting her back to a wall and taking her shoulders, cloaked frame pressing close.
“Hold very still.” He instructed, and she did as bidden. There wasn’t much she could do with him pressing so close she could feel his heat all down the length of her. She just stared into his steady eyes until several soldiers wearing those awkward goggles came smoothly down the hall, moving tactically with guns lifted. She saw them coming over his shoulder, and her dark burnished eyes found them in fright. They were sweeping the grounds.
Shannon began to panic as they drew closer and closer, slowly scanning as they moved along, and she noticed something peculiar. They were moving at normal speeds. Either they were within the fringe of the Veil by seeing into it, or Deh Leccend had brought her down to their dimension. She looked up to him in questioning, without moving a muscle, and he read the question on her features and in her touch.
“They are seeing into the Veil, as I cannot descend to their dimension until unleashed on the nightfall. They are yet unaware of the passage of differential time.” He whispered.
“If you tell me they won’t see, I’ll believe you.” She whispered back, barely moving her lips as she voicelessly spoke upon his ear. The soldiers came and were on their way.
“Do not worry. They do not know that there is not a plant sitting here in this corner. They will not see.” He assured her, voice coming on her ear so soft she had no choice but to cling to him beneath his cloak and pray he was right. It took her a full moment before she realized what he’d meant of course. There were plants in every odd corner of the many halls. Tall plants, ferns and the like. Deh Leccend was playing a trick on them, and it worked. Even if they could see into the fringe, they still couldn’t overcome their own ignorance. Had they taken off their goggles, they would not have seen a plant in that corner.
Shannon remained clinging to him until the soldiers had gone, and she reveled in his gifts until he pulled away, disappointing her in a strange fashion. She wasn’t even sure she understood exactly how it had upset her, but indeed it had in some way. He took her hand again, and it felt as if he’d taken part of her away from herself. But she hadn’t the time to analyze the feeling. Deh moved on quickly down the hall, pulling her in his wake and sniffing out Athaem like a wolf.
* * *
Prince Athaem Llaerth, son of Dunesil, here as emissary of the ultimatum, wandered the halls of the White House, fancy free in lazy patience. He could wait an eternity if he had to, though he knew he wouldn’t be reduced to it, for it was the final morning of the human’s choices. If they produced the goggles he expected them to produce with the information of the Qual, which he’d helped bring to light, then they would inevitably try to kill him like any random assassin.
They would fail, for bullets could not pierce the fringe, just as much of the human’s physical dimension was also irrelevant. But they would try once they witnessed him. And once they did that he could descend into the third dimension and let them see him with their naked eyes. For once having seen him within the Veil’s fringe, they must be slain, according to the laws of Addl’laen -just as both Deh Leccend and he should have done to the one now called Firea’csweise.
Also, once having assaulted him within their world, then he was also free to slay them in defense and retribution. Attacking a prince of Llaerth was punishable by death. Of course, if they failed to produce the tools of sight, and they still chose not to obey the mandate of Dunesil’s message, then they would still perish. But Athaem perhaps placed too much stock in human understanding and willingness to submit to the truth of all things. He honestly believed they were going to obey Dunesil in order to save themselves the furies of the Black Leaves. He didn’t want to believe it, but extermination was a powerful motivator to a greedy race.
Ever had mankind done everything within their power to continue to survive. Why should it be any different now? In truth it shouldn’t, which is why he’d acted as he had. He was sick of them. He did spite them, and he wished them to be slain to their very ends. He didn’t want to give them the chance to save their own hides by obeying Dunesil and the mother’s need. He merely wanted the mother to be utterly free of their kind, forever.
Thus, he waited and strolled the halls, thinking back to time when he was no mere overseer of the Black Leaves as they delivered their admonitions to the humans, nor a simple emissary. Athaem had been a soldier that many blighted leaves had feared as all the princes had been. The seven were among the very best warriors on the branch of the Elvine -for they had been born to that purpose as any prince worth his salt should be. He ached to be of great use again, for even over the millennia, the soldier in him could not be killed.
Eventually, Athaem Llaerth would discover just how effective his hints had been, for he came across soldiers moving in teams and wearing lengthy, almost comical duck-bill visors over their eyes. He almost laughed, but waited, curious as to whether they could see him or not. Had they gotten the angle of the glass just right enough to see into the Qual? Athaem didn’t bother waiting to find out.
He instead strolled right into their midst, practically begging them to see him. And much to his chagrin, it didn’t seem they’d managed to build their visors rightly. They just kept moving down the hall.
One pair of hunters came around the corner as a rear guard, however, and that’s when Athaem noticed the make of their eyewear. The tops of the visors had little dials. The pair slowed collectively and trained their aim upo
n him, staring in what must have been disbelief –for their jaws hung slack for a moment.
“I see one.” It started with a single slightly frightened soldier, and then the others joined, turning back him where he looked as Athaem came for them casually.
“I see him too.” The second rear guard echoed the first, speaking breathless of the fairly little figure of Athaem.
“By god, what is it?” He added in wonder.
“Angle of mark: 168.75 degrees.” The first rear soldier spoke again, and the main bulk of the fire team was quick at turning up their dials. Then one by one the others joined the aiming. Once all were in awe, still no one acted in any way against him. They stood defensively clustered, getting a good long look at him. Athaem stood perfectly still and let them look, then made a careless gesture to break their spellbound study. Slowly then, the soldier began to encircle him.
“We’ve got one, third floor, west wing, alpha three.” He heard a whisper from their obvious commander, communicating with his comrades elsewhere via battery operated radio systems. Athaem made it a point to look right at the man. The captain seemed to quail beneath the prince’s brilliant eyes, but steeled himself immediately.
“Roger.” Athaem heard come back in the man’s earpiece. “Go to terminate, Alpha three. Go to terminate. Alpha two is in route to your position. Alpha four, proceed to Alpha one at the office.”
Athaem just stood there waiting patiently. He didn’t much react to their presence in any outward fashion, and didn’t appear to be any real threat. He just left them staring as they failed to act on the okay to terminate -too awed and disbelieving that these strange goggles actually worked.
“What is he, a ghost?” A fourth soldier was asking his commander, but the man just shook his head lightly. He clearly didn’t know.
“No.” The leader of Alpha three finally said. “He’s a terrorist.” The soldier’s voice hardened as he gestured his men slowly away, taking away the possibility of crossfire.
“Go to terminate.” He said, and all at once, the hall erupted in automatic, muffled gunfire. They unloaded unchecked against the Elvine prince, and he let them, knowing full well their bullets couldn’t pierce the fringe. Even if they could pierce the Veil, they couldn’t pierce the soul, only the body they could see before them. And even if they could pierce the soul, they’d have to be able to hit him first, and to do so they would have to overcome the considerable power of the Elvine gifts -not to mention the gifts of the trained sons of Dunesil.
Not a second passed before they were dead, for Athaem drew his thin sword in a flash, ignoring the futility of human bullets. Up he raised it with his draw, a snapping swift movement graced by the power of his birthright. The hall was riddled by machine-gun fire, but utterly shredded by Athaem as a jagged whiteness erupted from him. The magic of the Elvine. It came with ease, after so long in disuse, like a visible wind of flaring shards and blades, and it ripped through the dimensions that separated Elf and Man without resistance, mercilessly slicing through the soldiers. Their flesh was taken and sundered so terribly they may as well have been put through a wheat thresher, for there was nothing left behind but unrecognizable chunks and blood as it was sprayed upon the walls in a single conflagrant pulse.
The men screamed only a fraction of their incomprehensive agony beneath the violence wrought of the prince’s long borne hatred for their kind. But then the instant was over. Their voices cut short before even rising, and as the magic died and the blood and body parts fell and dripped from their new resting places all about the hall and ceiling, Athaem sighed contentedly as if smelling the sweetest of roses.
That felt so good, he thought he just might like to do it again. He turned and strode down the hall, infallible ears picking out the sounds of the approach of the second group, Alpha two. He rounded a corner, and there they were, rushing to the cries and gunfire of their comrades’ ends.
“Oh shit!” One solder shouted under his breath, ducking and diving aside for a countersunk doorway, forcing his brothers to scramble to do similarly.
“Fire, Fire!” The first fellow was shouting.
“Enemy contact! Contact! We’ve got contact!” Their commander was shouting into his radio piece. Athaem didn’t even slow down, diving after the first fellow to slay him by sword as the man came back to his feet in a crouch. The soldier cried out, cut a blow that slew him and his spirit by a vicious burning wound. The others had opened fire, but to no avail. Athaem came for them unhindered, hunting them one by one at leisure, forcing the whole squad to back down the hall in futility. They dropped back to defensive stand after defensive stand, using corners, furniture, or anything they could find for cover, but it didn’t help them. They would all perish according to law of the Qual, but before they did so, Athaem grew bold. He stalked them, but did not kill another, waiting for them to realize the uselessness of their weaponry. When the shooting finally slowed, Athaem spoke.
“Come now, humans!” He chided their cowardly behavior. “Challenge me fairly!” He was fully sarcastic. He knew full well that it was he who needed to give them a fair chance in hell at so much as surviving.
“Better yet, I will descend.” He said, arms wide in the hall way, sword lowered as a stalemate ensued, for the soldiers could see their bullets had no affect.
“I will descend, and you will be able to take off your ridiculous glasses. You will also be able to hit me, if you can.” He chuckled, bowing lightly as his form shimmered slightly.
“There.” He said upon rising. “You may take off your goggles. I will not try to elude your eyes. Come, fight me fairly, or flee if you still wish, but know that if you do it will not save you.” He was challenging them openly, and slowly, hesitantly, one of the soldiers dared test his offer. He peeled back his visor, and sure enough, Athaem was still there, standing plainly before them all.
“Holy shit!” The soldier hissed in a ghostly awe. “He’s not bluffing!”
What remained of Alpha 2 slowly removed their visors collectively, and stared upon Athaem, crowned as a prince, cloaked in black but garbed in white with a gleaming sword.
“Now that we see each other.” Athaem struck the initiative, killing the awe. “I must feel it only fair to warn you all, that you must die.” He informed, forcing them to snap back into readiness. He lifted his sword.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” A soldier whispered, but that was as far as he ever got.
“Qitsilarest Sal’soour.” Athaem hissed, lifting his free hand with a snap to hold it poised like a crane. The soldiers twitched in reaction, moving to open fire at his slightest action, but it was too late. They couldn’t move, left standing frozen in a web of magic and power they couldn’t hope to begin to understand. Athaem slowly then lowered his free hand back to the handle of his blade, shifting its high poise.
“Of course, I failed to mention.” Athaem explained as he came striding forth, taking the foremost in a single swoop, a ruthless rising hack that sang like a swallow flies. “That you are not worthy of fairness. Your kind’s time is over, and it is no one’s fault but that which is inherent in humanity.” And so he slew them, right down to the last man, reveling in his wretched, unjustified wrath. And when he left behind a string of bloodied corpses, Athaem moved for the oval office once more, but this time he would not be going as an emissary of the ultimatum in the guise of Special Agent Arthur Black of the fictitious PEDD. Not nearly.
He descended upon the halls leading to the oval office, emerging openly before Alpha four, positioned quite strategically through the length of a hall. They didn’t even hesitate as he came. The order was given and the entire team opened fire freely upon him. However, Athaem was beyond them, even within their realm. He dropped immediately to a crouch and lunged. He went up as a blur, inverting himself to take to the ceiling. There he rolled left as if on solid earth and lunged to the wall like a terrible spider of ungodly agility. He struck the wall, rolled forth again, and dragged their fire up and aside, only to lunge to
the other wall where he once more inverted and alighted with speed they could not fathom.
The soldiers could not begin to adjust their aim fast enough, leaving trails of countless bullet-holes. The hall was shredded beneath their attempts, and yet Athaem came down amidst them unscathed, hacking and slashing, sidestepping and brutally grappling by blade with their armaments. He cast them to death in swift pairs, wreaking agonizing screams of them and moving on for the others in similar fashion. He defied gravity and physics like a god.
Their screams and gunfire filled the halls, plunging the White House into chaos and fear the likes of which it had never seen. Their radios transmitted the entire helpless struggle to the ears of Alpha one, putting terror into they who likely placed so much faith in their rifles and odd goggles.
They were last line of defense for the oval office, and it would seem the Qual visors weren’t even necessary anymore. They’d served their purpose, of course. They’d granted Athaem the right to his personal war.
But now, he’d forsaken the Veil in the pleasure of the slaughter, and mankind’s fate would be sealed. War would destroy all hope of them acquiescing to Dunesil’s mandate. Now their termination would be inescapable, and Athaem decided he’d better get a head start on the killing.
E.L.F. - White Leaves Page 24