When Elves Die : Episode One by Richard Poche Page B

by taking out his long sword she
would back down.
    Screaming, she kept coming. He pierced her heart
with one upward stroke.
    Silence.
    Her face, which looked so demonic an instant
earlier, faded into a serene calm. Her black eyes turned back into
a slate blue.
    Tholan extracted his blade and laid the dead woman
on the ground.
    He broke his own code. He only killed for money.
    Tholan took another look at the dead bodies. He
noticed that a lot of them still had their purses and money bags. A
small bounty there for the taking.
    He decided against sifting through the valuables of
the dead. Already tardy, he did not want to anger his new
employer.
    Ravalynn. The Dark Queen.

    He couldn't help but look back at the dead elves
again as he left. A group of friends and family that lived
together, ate together and worshiped together. Now they died
together. He wondered what it would be like to belong to a
community of people, whether it be elves or humans. To have people
to whom his life mattered and would avenge him if he were
murdered.
    He reminded himself that he did not make it this far
by having compassion and clemency. Sentimentality is for the weak,
he told himself. Friendship is for the weak.
    The weak and the dead.
    That is how he earned the name Tholan the Feared.
The solitary figure coming down the mountain with a sword in
hand.
    The assassin of the snow.
     

CHAPTER 2

    Xavian waved his dagger around and stabbed at an
imaginary dragon. His battle-cry filled the air as he somersaulted
off the top of the wagon. Short and slender, Xavian had a mop of
brown curly hair that invariably got into his eyes. His
non-imposing physique aside, Xavian dreamed of fighting legendary
battles and having his fellow elves speak of his exploits in hushed
tones of reverence.
    “Unhand that damsel, you beast!” Xavian pointed his
knife at the large, sleeping wolf.
    Jamben opened one eye and his tail thumped the
ground in annoyance. Not amused by the young elf's antics, he
rolled over and went back to sleep.
    “I said unhand her or you shall suffer a most
humiliating defeat!” Xavian went through a series of movements,
pantomiming blocks with his dagger as he pirouetted away from an
imaginary enemy's strikes.
    “Careful there, Big Bad Barbarian,” said Zinna.
    She had long legs for an elf. Her light brown hair,
partially covered with a headband, fell all the way down to her
waist. Her eyes were bright green and sparkled with mischief. Only
two summers older than Xavian, she joked that they were centuries
apart when it came to maturity.
    “That dagger might hit your legs,” she laughed. “And
then people will think that you cut yourself shaving.”
    Xavian jumped back atop the wagon and swung the
knife around.
    “How dare you mock Xavian the
Brave!” he said, puffing out his chest . I may come back and save you one
day. Save the town of Graceonna and the entire tribe of elves. I
will then gladly accept your tithings, your praise and your young
damsels. One day. Yes, one day, I will save all of you. Just
wait!”
    He somersaulted again from the top of the wagon and
landed on his feet, swinging the dagger around. But he misjudged
his momentum and fell face first into the dirt.
    “Sorry, buddy.” Zinna howled with
laughter. “But you have a loooong way to go.”
    Xavian got up and dusted himself off. Then he looked
to the left to make sure Kelroar didn't see him. He would never
want to be embarrassed in front of his mentor. The man and warrior
he had so much wanted to be like.
    But Kelroar no longer stood in front of the church.
Zinna noticed Xavian's concern and followed his eyeline to the
empty street.
    “Where did he go?”
    “I think he went inside,” said Xavian. “You know. It
is confidential stuff they're talking about.”
    “Maybe he'll leave us,” Zinna said. “Why should he
be burdened with two orphaned thieves.”
    “He won't leave us. He's a man of his word. What he
says, he does.”
    “But he never says