Chapter 2
A elrie forced her upper body up using the strength in her arms so that she sat back on her knees and steadied herself with one palm flat on the cold, damp stone tile.
Her short sword was still in her other hand, with her knuckles white from the intense grip she had on it.
Violent spasms rippled through her body, the poison at work.
Her arms and legs shook, unsteadying her, and her body’s revulsion of the poison threatened to spill the contents of her stomach out in front of her.
Fight it. I have to …
It was good that she was a Light Elf and had a natural defense against all poisons in Yggdrasil. It would not kill, but it did debilitate. Her constitution held firm, but she was unable to stand.
Her teeth ground together as she drew her eyes again to the high priestess lying lifelessly on the stone floor. She had to check if Lindana still drew breath. And, if not, she would kill the one who murdered her.
How dare this Dark Elf murder their high priestess!
How dare he defile their sacred temple!
He wouldn’t leave here alive .
She groaned and tried to lift her body off the floor, but her legs were all but useless to her now. The poison must have had a paralytic added to it as well. And that bastard just stood there staring at her in silence as if mocking her.
Why didn’t he make a move to kill her? She was debilitated by the poison and would be easy prey to someone of his skill. And she would never let him escape, even in her weakened state.
That Dark Elf must be enjoying this, watching her struggle in vain on all fours on the floor like a beast.
A groan pushed through her throat, louder this time, as she found her voice and poured as much venom as she could into spitting out, “Dokkálfar!”
It was the ancient name of the Dark Elves, and one they resented as it was their name when they were mightiest of all, but still fell to the Ljósálfar, the Light Elves of old.
The assassin narrowed his eyes at her; his resentment swelling.
Yes. Hate me. Come at me.
The grip on her blade tightened, and her eyes darted around to his vitals. Which would be the easiest place to strike?
She was at a disadvantage, unable to get up off the floor, yet every part of her body focused on where to make her kill.
The poison still made her feel woozy, but she shut everything else out—the pain at her side that felt like a bee sting, the nauseousness rising up in her gullet, the infuriatingly complacent look from this despicable Dokkálfar—and steeled herself for the fight of her life, when he came for her next .
Her hopes were dashed when he flicked the blood off his daggers, which left a sickening crimson arch across the pristine white marble floors in Lindana’s chambers, and then sheathed his weapons, even in the face of her goading him to attack.
There was a sound coming from beyond the corridor.
Someone had noticed the door was open and called out.
“High priestess, are you there?” It was a priestess, judging by the timid female voice.
The assassin was quick, and, in the blink of an eye, ran to pass her, but she was quick too, even in her poisoned state, and grabbed his foot, tripping him up. Her other hand brought her sword around to stab him, but he recovered from his fall and kicked her in the face.
The pain made her head spin, but it was only momentary, and she managed to scream, “Assassin!” while he was in her sight. After that, the priestess, who was still hovering around the entrance, ran away.
He doubled his speed and left her there as he ran down the corridor. Listening to his nimble steps on the stone tile floor wet with mist from the falling water mirrors, she strained to listen further.
When commotion came moments later from within the temple in the form of raised voices and an alarm bell, she thanked the gods. The shouts from the guards and the raised voices trailed farther away until they must have left the temple.
But at least they were in pursuit.
She coughed hard as she went to stand, but her legs gave way, and she fell back down .
No.
She had to get to Lindana and then catch up with the temple guards pursuing the assassin. He was hers to kill.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, focusing on the healing magic within. Healing magic was intrinsic to Light Elves, but not every Light Elf could do the magic, as it required intense training and focus to learn.
She breathed in deeply, holding it, and slipped into a near-comatose state, but it did not last long. A clean feeling spread throughout her body, cleansing the poison. After she exhaled, she was able to stand back up.
Where the dagger hit was just a flesh wound, and she would heal that later. Right now, all she could think about was …
Lindana!
She knelt next to her, trying not to focus on the crimson stain down her once pristine white robe, lest her hopes crumble.
But there was no pulse.
Lindana’s body still held the warmth of life, but she was dead.
She stared at her own shaking hands. The room was closing in on her.
“What happened here?” A priestess appeared behind her. “The door was opened. It’s not supposed to be open. And what are you doing here, temple guard? It is forbidden!”
“The high priestess is dead.” Her throat was dry, and her voice cracked. She stood up. An eerie calmness washed over her face despite the raging tempest forming within.
The priestess gasped and ran over to check Lindana. “Dead? What happened? Was it … that Dark Elf?” The priestess’s dark gray eyes looked up at hers.
“Of course, an assassin.” She sheathed her short sword.
“That must be the one the guards were chasing.”
“Tell me. Which way did they go?”
She must have said this with too much intensity because the priestess shook from her words. But she didn’t have time to deal with this. “Hurry!” she yelled, not caring about formalities and manners. “Where did they go?”
This snapped the priestess out of her stupor. “Out of the temple, toward the markets.”
She didn’t wait for any follow-up; she ran down the corridor and passed the dais where the high priestess prayed earlier that day, when she was still alive.
Her hatred for the assassin intensified as did her purpose in finding him and killing him.
She had to get to him before the other guards could, or even though she hoped and prayed it wasn’t the case, he escaped.
If he escaped back into the Evergloom, it would be hard to find him.
Light Elves were not permitted in Dark Elf lands.
But Dark Elves weren’t permitted to be in their lands either, especially to murder Light Elves.
The assassination of the high priestess would cause an incident, maybe even a war.
But now was not the time to worry about the fallout from this because the only thoughts that occupied her mind were ones of stone-cold revenge .
Aelrie was tall for a female and slim, and her long legs could carry her long distances with ease.
She was outside the temple and in the marketplace while the aftermath of what had transpired was still apparent.
Elves congregated in the center, and there seemed to be much confusion among them as they gathered in groups and chatted together.
The crowds grew as curious onlookers were eager to learn what had happened.
She chose to approach an elf who looked the least confused and out of it. “Where did they go?” she blurted out, not wasting time with useless prattle.
The elf with long pale-yellow hair turned to her with a grumpy face at the rude intrusion. Light Elf manners and customs when addressing others were formal and, even in her opinion as a Light Elf, stuffy and excessive.
He was … a councilor, and not just any councilor, one she recognized. He visited the temple often.
“Forgive me, ker ,” she said, bowing her head. “Please, did you see where they went?”
The councilor looked her over, noticing her temple guard uniform. His face relaxed from a sneer into a frown.
“They left the city, into Emerald Forest.” He wasn’t as frazzled as the priestess from the temple. She thanked him, both relieved for his informative answer and his ability to read the situation, and went to exit the marketplace.
“Wait!” he called out to her. She huffed and turned around, having no time for this .
“You’re injured,” he said, looking at her side. She glanced down and saw a small, circular bloodstain on her tunic. But the blood was dried and not oozing, so that, at least, was a good sign.
“Please, stay, and I will find you a healer. I would hate that such beautiful skin be marred.” He gave her a flirtatious smile.
She had no time to chat or even ignore the councilor’s flirtations. She bowed again. “Thank you, but I will heal myself later.” When she said that, his eyebrow perked.
Emerald Forest, she knew it very well, every Light Elf did, but Aelrie especially, as she grew up in the forest and was not from the city of Alfheim like most other Light Elves.
She had spent her youth running nimbly through the moss-covered forest, jumping over the twisting upturned roots and jutting rocks full of lichen, exploring every chimera den and pixie village in Emerald Forest. There was no place for that Dark Elf to hide from her there.
“Be careful,” the councilor called to her as she ran through the crowds to get to the city gates. “That Dokkálfar is awfully wicked.”
Oh, she knew far too well his wickedness.
But his skill was more her concern now, especially his ability to sneak into a Light Elf temple without detection.
Light Elves had more advanced senses than the other races, especially in hearing.
Only Dark Elves had night vision, which Light Elves lacked.
She would never forgive herself for being unable to stop the high priestess’s assassination—her charge, her duty, the only thing in life which gave her a sense of purpose.
Now, ripped from her with the finality only death brings.