A Wizard's Price

[wolf]

"Shut your trap you mangy mutt!" A harsh, stubborn voice broke through the noise. Pacco had been on his fourth chorus of his howling, and was quite surprised with the new sound that he heard other than himself. He quickly lifted himself off his rump and stood tall, his ears high and his head cocked. There was a brief pause, where muttering and shuffling around could be heard, and then the ceiling of his 'cage' flew open. A bright light broke through the dim area, collecting shadows on the walls and causing Pacco's eyes to burn. After a few moments of rapid blinking and head shaking, his vision returned and he looked up.

A man stood in the opening, looking down on him. A lantern branched off one of his muscular arms, and a big head looked down at him. Giant horns, about the size of full grown bulls protruded from his head. His eyes were enormous and brown, and his face was wide and hairy. Pacco realized that he was not in fact a man, but a Minotaur. His large, bull snout had a gold ring between the nostrils, and at the moment he looked down at Pacco with a displeased complexion. Pacco could make himself do nothing but stare.

"What are you looking at?" His deep, rumbling voice asked. By his tone it was obvious he was not really expecting an answer, so Pacco kept his mouth shut. With a huff, and a great pile of steam rising from his nostrils, the Minotaur reached into the pit with a large pole. At the edge where two pinchers, and between the pinchers was a buzzing wave of electricity. Pacco slithered into the far corner, as far away from the pole as he could get. A look of amusement played across the beast’s disheartening features as he followed after Pacco with the pole. "Get out of here. Come on." He commanded, nearing Pacco's backside. Scrambling to his feet, Pacco scurried to the opening where he easily jumped out from the ditch and onto the ground.

He found, that in fact he had been in an underground, marble cell. Though as it turned out, he was still underground, but now in a basement type looking place. The walls were made from cheap cement, and the floor was nothing but sandy dirt. Bookshelves were scattered about the room in no particular order, and there was a layer of oldness over everything. The place made Pacco uncomfortable.

"Ah, there you are." A cheery voice called. A man of about fifty stepped into the room from a hidden doorway. His cheeks where plump and rosy, and he had only a few wisps of hair covering his scalp. Colorful, expensive cloth he was wearing and a robe made of fine silk. The man was larger than what was healthy, and when he walked he wobbled. "I have been waiting to see you."

He was speaking to Pacco. Me? Why? He wondered as he looked up at the bull-man, who was already watching Pacco closely. The fat man seemed to notice, and smiled nonchalantly.

"Thank you, Bartonious, you may leave." He said with a quick wave of his hand. Bartonious gave one last glaring look at Pacco before leaving the room, the clumping of his footsteps following him out and down the hall. Pacco stood there awkwardly, waiting for the fat man to make a move.

"I am called Oromis." He said with a warm yet strange smile. "I am the most great and powerful wizard in all of Scara Brae. It's a pleasure to meet you." He laced his stubby fingers together, and giggled in a most unmanly like way. His cheeks shone bright, and his soft brown eyes glimmered in the candle light. "The sheepskin you wore, it was unusual. I am very fond of animals, and when I heard of a wolf in a sheep skin I said to myself, 'I must have him!' And so here you are, in my presence. I know I may seem like a fool, talking to a mere canine, but frankly I do not care." His voice sounded confident, on of a child who's just said something important.

Pacco's ears twitched and the man's eyes caught that. He watched Pacco intently, as a sly smile made its way across his face.

"You understand me, do you not? You seem most intelligent." Pacco's tail wagged slightly and his eyes met the man's. I can trust him. Pacco decided for no particular reason. He was itching to talk, and it just turned out that this man was a wizard. Perfect.

"I can, actually." He said finally, after a hesitating moment. As the words slipped from his mouth, the wizard's eyes widened, and his smile grew larger. He clapped his hands together.

"I knew you could. I'm such a powerful wizard, aren't I? I can speak to animals. They love me." He bobbed his head, tickled by what he thought he knew. Pacco tilted his own head to the side. This man thinks...never mind, I suppose I should allow him. Now, to get to the point...

"Oromis, I need your help." Pacco said in an urgent voice, glancing over at the door. He felt his skin tingling, and just knew there was magic in the air. A sense of exposure filled him as he realized he wasn't wearing his sheepskin. "I need you to--"

"No more, no more. Follow me, dear friend. We have much to discuss." The man said in a bubbly voice as he motioned Pacco after him. He scurried over to the door and slipped through, holding it open for Pacco. Should I? He wondered. He had thought he could trust the wizard, but things were getting stranger by the second. After another persistent, "Come!" Pacco slowly made his way to the door, and walked through. The door shut behind him.

[Chiroptera]

It was hours before Eltarri was fully cognizant of her surroundings, so consumed was she with the agony on her neck. She lay on her stomach, face pressed into the straw beneath her as even the still air seemed to grate against her fresh wound. The pain brought back sharp memories of the day she’d lost her hearing, bringing to mind the strange little creature that had torn her world apart with its shrieking voice. The pain on the back of her neck was comparable to the misery of mutilated eardrums, but even this searing throb fell short of the pain her ruined ears had endured.

The thought was only a little comforting.

She distantly remembered what had happened after the branding. The ropes were loosened and she’d been dragged up a flight of stairs that had seemed to appear miraculously from out of the ceiling. A rough wooden floor and a long carpet later, she had been set down relatively gently on the pallet that she was still on and the burn on her neck had been generously doused with cold water. She’d closed her eyes and wallowed in misery, shutting herself into the dark, silent world that had become her refuge. No one had bothered her, and with her eyes tightly shut it was easy to convince herself that she really was in some safe, non-threatening world.

A soft kick in the ribs brought that fantasy to a crashing demise. Eltarri started to lift her head from the hay, but the screaming of her skin made her stop only an inch off the ground. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the room around her, an unadorned chamber of nondescript grey with only a glass-covered window and her straw-covered pallet to break the monotony. Looking past her shoulder, she saw brown boots that were small and faded, fitted to the curve of a feminine ankle. What if this woman was talking to her? Biting her tongue to keep any strange noises from coming out of her mouth, Eltarri rolled onto her side, tears springing to her eyes at the pain even this simple motion caused. Her eyes trailed up to a wide, dark face framed by honey-colored hair and filled with luminous hazel eyes that peered curiously down at her. The face was youthful and unlined, possessing the same timeless quality that she'd always admired in her mother. She was dressed in an oversized tunic that was belted at the waist and loose pants that were tucked into knee-high boots. She stood over Eltarri with her brow furrowed, though her large eyes remained clear and untroubled.

“Aw, she’s crying! I think you hurt her, Bell.” The head whipped around and Eltarri’s gaze jerked to follow hers, landing with a rush of fear on the high elf, who stood in the small room’s doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were focused on the dark-skinned girl, and though he barely moved his mouth when speaking, Eltarri could see what he was saying because of the smallness of the room.

“I told you not to call me that, Shira.”

The girl turned completely around with her hands resting cockily on her hips, and Eltarri saw that the girl was even shorter than she was. She turned back suddenly, mouth still moving as she gestured towards Eltarri.

“ . . . elves were supposed to protect each other or something. Why’d you let him take her?”

“Don’t be a fool. She’s no more Elven than you are.” Eltarri could almost hear the loathing in his voice.

Shira kept her bright gaze on Eltarri, dropping into a crouch so that she could pat her head gently. “Don’t listen to him, little elf-girl. He’s just jealous because I’m older than him and Gamen still likes me more.” She threw a snide look over her shoulder, the loose waves of her golden hair falling forward as she turned so that Eltarri caught sight of one of her ears. It was round and large for her head, shaped like half of an upside-down heart so that even though the lobe was rounded the top came to a slanted point. Two small silver hoops rounded the cartilage of her ear near the point, probably because the lower part of the ear was too thick to pierce. The strange girl turned back and smiled down at her.

“Don’t worry, El, I’ll look after you.” She paused, her nose wrinkling as she shook her head and continued, “Wait, sorry, I can’t call you that anymore. Gamen renamed you Eye-air because he said your old name wasn’t Elvish enough.” Eltarri ran the word through her head until it matched an Elvish word she recognized. Aier? Short One?

Her indignation must have showed on her face, because Shira sympathetically nodded. “Yeah, he’s pretty weird that way. He calls me Lira-mere, but Bell-, she tossed a grin over her shoulder, “I mean, Bella-jure, is the only one who can call me by my real name, ’cause he’s Gamen’s right-hand man.” Eltarri’s head began to hurt as she hurriedly tried to keep up with the talking girl while translating the Elvish. Lirimaer, Lovely One, and Beleger, Mighty One. Go figure that she would get the only even moderately insulting name of the bunch.

Shira’s head turned and Eltarri quickly looked to the high elf.

“. . . what you say, dryad. Those earrings aren’t just for decoration.” He cast a scorning glance at the half-elf before turning and striding away from the doorway, leaving the room somehow brighter from his absence. Dryad? Eltarri looked again at the agile figure before her, noticing with astonishment the fourth joint in each finger that she had heard characterized the sylvan Fae-folk. How could the wizard be dumb enough to mistake her for an elf?

Shira’s eyes clouded for only a moment as a hand went up to the silver hoops in her ear. Then her face cleared and her eyes sparkled as she spoke through a grin. “He’s such a worrywart. Gamen doesn’t listen in on us unless we’re on a mission.” Her face lit up even more. “Speaking of which, you’re supposed to come with us on our next adventure!” Quicker than lightning her face fell into a sorrowful pout. “But it’s tonight and you don’t really seem up to it. Maybe I’ll ask Gamen if he’ll let you sit this one out, it being your third day with us and all . . .” She looked questioningly at Eltarri, as if waiting for her response.

The half-elf tried to ignore her neck for long enough to formulate coherent thoughts. A mission? Her curiosity was piqued as to what kind of mission this Black Wizard considered worthy of his “Legion of Light,” but more than anything she just wanted to curl into a ball and sleep until the pain went away. But if they were going on a mission, she’d have the chance to see where this place was, and there might even be a chance of escape. Meeting the dryad’s eye, she made a weak attempt to shake her head, but the motion proved too painful and she helplessly fell still.

“Gamen said you didn’t talk much, but you’ve been whimpering all day, so you can’t be mute. And that’s a really big sword for a person who’s not right in the head . . .” Shira continued her muse, but Eltarri rolled back onto her stomach and forced herself to her knees, closing her eyes to fight a wave of nausea. She felt a long-fingered hand rest against her shoulder, steadying her as she sat back on her heels. When she opened her eyes the dryad was gone, but then a soft, cool hand touched the back of her neck. The dark girl was at her side, smiling encouragingly.

“Lucky you, yours is a good inch above your collar, which is good. When he did mine he put it right at my shirt line, which hurt like -,” she tilted her torso to get a better look at the brand and Eltarri lost sight of her mouth. The pressure of her fingers on the burn sent jolts down her spine, but the coolness of her hand counterbalanced the pain and made the probing bearable. A few seconds later she scooted around on the ground to sit in front of Eltarri, mirroring her pose and folding her hands on her lap, long fingers wiggling.

“Looks like you’re up, then, and coming on our adventure tonight! This will be so much fun.” She glanced warily over her shoulder at the open door, then turned back to Eltarri with gleaming eyes. “I’m not sure how much I can tell you, because I’m not actually supposed to know this myself, but we’re going to deliver justice to a family that was betrayed by our enemy! We’re going to rescue them from him. Isn’t that exciting?”

Eltarri managed a slight nod, amazed at the dryad’s energy. She was older than the high elf? Beleger looked a good many years older than herself, but if the dryad was older even than him, why did she act so childish?

Her thoughts were distracted as a figure stepped into the doorway, his tall frame and the thin sword at his side identifying him as the high elf.

“Shira, shut up and get ready. You need to learn to guard your tongue before Gamen tells me to cut it out.” Eltarri couldn’t hear his tone, but the hurt on the dryad’s face told her enough. The dryad rose wordlessly to her feet, giving Eltarri a half-smile before she half-ran out of the room, hugging the doorpost to avoid contact with the elf. Eltarri hated to see her go. She kept her eyes on the floor, but she watched Beleger's face out of her peripheral vision, looking up only when he spoke again.

“Don’t put too much stock in her words. She’s old in human years but she’s still a stupid child to her own kind, much like you to yours, I’m sure.” Eltarri flinched at the words. Her kind? What was her kind?

“When you’re up to it, go to the dining room at the end of the hall, your sword should still be on the floor. And get over your mark so that you don’t slow us down with your bawling, we’re leaving at sunset, with or without you.” He’d turned and left again before Eltarri had finished deciphering his words. Why did everyone talk so bloody fast?

The thought of having her sword again made her fingers itch with anticipation, and the thought of hunger made her even more inclined to move. She sat on the pallet for a few minutes, making sure that the high elf had plenty of time to get far away from her, and then gingerly pushed herself to her feet. Her neck screeched when she tried to stand up straight, so she kept her neck bent, feeling as though she looked ridiculously like a vulture as she stepped out of the room. The floor was carpeted in a worn brown rug that stretched from one end of the hall to the other. She went towards her left and reached a stone staircase going up, then turned and went the other way, which led her into a large room with a wooden table that ate up most of the floor space. Small windows lined the walls near the top of the high walls, and below them hung woven banners of different colors and designs.

Eltarri stepped into the room gingerly, looking around tentatively for any occupants, and was relieved to see that she was alone. Her face broke into a smile when she saw her black sword resting on the floor behind one of the chairs, still trapped in its sling. She went to it and quickly strapped the harness across her chest, relieved to feel the weight of the iron on her back. The smell of warm food hit her nose, and she turned to see the diminutive dryad stepping out of the doorway on another wall, two loaded plated in her hands and a triumphant smile on her lips. A long cloak was draped over her clothes, dragging against the floor, and a quiver of arrows was strapped onto her back, the feathers on the bristled ends the same golden color as her hair.

“I brought us dinner! I don’t care about what old Belly says, eating before a mission is a good idea.” She set the plates down onto the table and climbed into a chair, motioning at the plate next to her own. Eltarri picked up the plate and moved around the table to sit on the other side, using her free hand to shift her sword so that Shira wouldn’t think she was just trying to get away from her. In reality, she wanted to make sure that she had a good view in case the dryad said anything useful.

“So that sword is yours, huh? I measured myself against it and it’s the same size as me. Isn’t that funny?” She began to eat and continued talking at the same time. Eltarri too began to eat, but her attention was on the dryad. “Gamen’s really excited about this . . . . . . this will be a turning point in his war ‘cause . . . . . . and when his enemy . . . . what we’ve done . . . .”

Eltarri sighed and focused on her food. There was no point in trying to understand if she couldn’t see half of what the girl was saying. When she looked up again, she jumped visibly at the sight of Beleger standing beside the table, cloaked and pulling a pair of dark gloves onto his hands.

“ . . . learn, will you? Gamen’s waiting in his study. He wants us to leave now to make sure we get there in time.” He turned and walked to the doorway that Eltarri had come in through. Eltarri felt her stomach twist. He hadn’t even looked at her once. She pushed her half-eaten plate away, and as she did so her eyes landed on a bundle on the table. Shira was already standing, racing towards her own entrance to pick up a longbow that rested against the wall. She slung it over her shoulder and turned back to the half-elf, eyes shining as she pulled a pair of gloves onto her own hands.

“Are you ready? Come on, let’s go!" She whirled away and skipped towards the high elf. Eltarri quickly shook out the bundle, revealing an ankle-length black cloak and a pair of black gloves like the ones the other two were wearing. She carefully draped the cloak over her shoulders, surprised to find that a long slit had been cut in the back so that her sword and its sling could rest outside of the cloak for easy access. The gloves were of fine leather, stiff with newness and a little too large. As soon as she’d pulled them completely on, however, the material of the gloves grew warm and shrunk to perfectly fit her hands like a second skin. She was still staring at her black fingers when she saw Shira begin to jump up and down excitedly. A motion from Beleger stilled her, but Eltarri hurriedly fastened the clasp on the cloak and stepped towards them, still in awe over the magical gloves. Beleger didn’t spare her a glance as he turned and went down the hall, cloak fluttering behind him as he strode imperiously towards the stairs. Shira gave the half-elf a grin, then turned and chased after the high elf in a skipping run. Eltarri reached back to make sure that the neckline of the cloak wouldn’t rub against her burn, then hesitantly followed after the Legion of Light.

[wolf]

It was black. Pacco's heart pounded wildly in his chest, threatening to crawl up his throat. He felt as if he'd stepped off the edge of the world. His head spun, and his claws uselessly attempted to grip the floor. A second later, a small, orange, flickering flame entered the room. With it, came a soft shadow. Pacco calmed, and after a quick movement and a muffled snapping of fingers, the room was light.

"Sorry about that." Oromis muttered, stepping forward. Pacco's golden eyes widened as they hungrily soaked up the room. It was about the same size and shape as the one he'd just left, but this one was nicer. Large candles burned, their flames born from the simple demand of the wizard. The floors were a dark, black marble, etched with white, wispy layers. On the walls hung ancient pictures of maidens and dragons, colorful landscapes, enchanted castles. One wall was lined with book shelves that carried a musty scent, and were obviously worn out. A door lay in the corner of the room, draped with fine purple silk cloth that played as a covering of a sort.

The room was indeed, a sight for sore eyes, but it wasn't its elegance which brought fear into Pacco’s strong body, and threatened his limbs to give out underneath him. It was the room's inhabitants.

"Forgive my rudeness," Oromis turned to face Pacco, brown eyes dancing across the wolf, "Let me do the introductions." With a knobby finger, he motioned to the first one. She was sitting down, on one of the chairs, legs crossed. A cigarette burned casually in her mouth, and it had been, Pacco realized, the source of the flame. Her skin was a dark, bronze color, and her stately green, almond shaped eyes scrutinized him skillfully. Her red hair was long and thick, falling about down to her knees. She wore rather skimpy clothes which showed more skin than necessary, though it did not fail her. From her back, protruded large, feathered wings. The upper half was a glossy black, and the lower half was a glowing white. Her face was sharp, her nose small and delicate, and her lips, the bottom fuller than the top, a cool pink. Pacco blinked in amazement at her beauty.

"This is Aphrodite." Oromis's deep voice stated, pounding on the moment and leaving it to wither in the dust. Pacco's eyes flickered to him, and the man smiled like a child who'd just found candy on the floor. "She's a harpy, obviously. Don't get on her nerves, or you'll end up at the bottom of a sewer with a broken spine and no activity in your brain except the thoughts of what you shouldn't have done." He chuckled and winked at Pacco, before politely gesturing to the next.

Beside Aphrodite sat another harpy, looking almost exactly the same, except this one had blonde hair and a lighter looking face. Brown eyes gazed at Pacco curiously, and her parted red lips showed white, glimmering fangs. A chill crept up his spine, and he shifted on his paws uncomfortably.

"That would be Izalexbrianque, called Izalex." Oromis's eyes glittered with pleasure. He's enjoying this, isn't he? Pacco thought listlessly, though keeping his face blank. " And last, but certainly not least, I give you Garstisienfunklestein III." His voice rose enthusiastically, and he made the effort to raise both flabby arms to gesture towards, as Pacco assumed, his most prized possession. Tilting his head to the side, his golden eyes peered into the darkness in which the third supposedly was. There was a brief moment of silence, where unseen crickets seemed to gladly chime their song louder than all else. The air grew thick, and a musty smell arose.

Pacco's body shook, and he began taking cautious steps back. The darkness was growing. Its web like fingers groped the walls, ceiling, and floor as it stretched, and from behind it a tall shadow loomed. A grunt came from one of the harpy ladies, but it was drowned out by a low, hoarse growl.

I'm too young to die. The impetuous thought bounced through Pacco's head. And then the darkness stopped. The room was completely still. One second it was there, and then, it was suddenly gone, and in its place crouched a mouse. Pacco blinked stupidly a couple of times, and then a roar of laughter erupted from the wizard, Aphrodite, and Izalex. Questioning eyes of the wolf turned to Oromis, who was leaned against the wall, one hand on his chest, shoulders trembling from laughter. The mouse squeaked, almost as if in reply, and then leapt into the air, landing on four hooves as a goat. A bleat filled with mockery followed as it looked at Pacco, who was still involuntarily shaking. Shapeshifter.

"Forgive me." Oromis managed to choke as he wiped tears from his eyes. "Garst, go and make yourselves useful. You two too. I need to talk to Wolfy alone." Pacco glared at the wizard. Wolfy? That has got to stop now. The three quietly left the room, all still smiling. Pacco rolled his eyes. It wasn't that funny. He tried to convince himself. They must get bored around here.

"Now, have a seat, have a seat." Oromis ordered. Pacco sat, and watched the fat man as he hobbled around the room, realizing he did have a bad habit of not closing his chubby lips. "So, Wolfy, tell me once again what you were saying. I wasn't listening." The wizard's tone was curt and frank, and Pacco found himself cursing the oaf under his breath. "I know I'm special," the wizard continued, "Not many wizards can hear animals talk." He placed himself in a chair close by to Pacco, and it creaked painfully in objection.

"I said I need your help." Pacco began. "I--"

"As I told you before, I am the great Oromis of Hypernikoi. My minions and I are known around town as The Dark Knights. We are the doers of old." His chest puffed proudly, and he smiled to the side in attempt to look dashing, or so Pacco assumed. "I am a wizard of the world, Wolfy." Oromis said as his gobble of fat jiggling as he spoke. "I am the most powerful wizard in all Scara Brae. My army is made up for magical creatures, such as yourself." The fat man looked eagerly at Pacco, who took it as a sign to speak.

"Yes, but what--"

"And then there is Gamen." Oromis shuddered, and clasped his hands together with a hollow smack. "The Legions of Light." He said the name as though his tongue tasted bitter, and rolled his eyes afterwards. "I mean, that fake of a wizard has the audacity to tell me he's better then me. Can you believe it? No, you can't. I can't either. It's preposterous I say!" He raised his hands in the air as he spoke to help his speech. Pacco kept his mouth shut, already exasperated on being interrupted so many times. What a nut. He thought stiffly.

"So I've been building an army." Oromis continued. "One that will take him and his sorry meat sack of an army down." Meat sack? What have I gotten myself into? Oromis's eyes blazed, not so much as with anger than determination. He pounded a fist on his hand. "I will bring him down."

Silence, once more. He'd obviously finished what he had wanted to say, and now there was a very uncomfortable silence. I suppose I should...

"So where do I come in?" Pacco asked, his voice filled with controlled curiosity. Must not seem to eager. Though in fact, he was very interested in why the wizard wanted him. He was nothing big. Just a talking wolf...

"My army consists of magical creatures." Oromis repeated. "You are a creature who can talk! I cannot have measly elves or humans working for me. You will help me much." He nodded stupidly, and reached over to a silver tray which sat on the edge of the table, stacked with food. A large, juicy turkey leg met the fat man's fingers, and he pulled it back to himself. He took a large bite of the meat, juice running down the sides of his mouth, and he chewed without closing his mouth. Pacco stared in disgust.

"You'll be fed," he raised his turkey leg and smiled a dirty, meat-filled-tooth smile, "And taken care of. What more could you ask for?" He chuckled, little bits of food flying from his mouth. I think I'm going to be sick. Pacco thought, tilting his head.

"Why should I stay? Why should I fight for you?" Pacco pondered aloud, stepping back quickly as a chunk of chewed meat flew towards him from the man's mouth. Oromis let out a throaty laugh and replied,

"Because I can help you. I wasn't listening, so I don't know what you need, but I know I can help you." Pacco was unsure. How does he know? He must be powerful to be able to ensure such a thing. But then if he's so powerful, why does he want me? Questions raced through his mind, and he hesitated, eyeing the man eat with cold gold eyes.

"I want to be a man again." Pacco finally said. Now it was Oromis's turn to hesitate. He stopped mid mouthful, and slowly lowered the food from his face. Pacco's body froze. He was suddenly hanging off the edge of a cliff, his fingers grasping the ledge tightly, though slowly slipping away. Darn.

"I...I can do that." Oromis said, though his voice was filled with uncertainty. He glanced over at the door in the corner, then quickly back to Pacco. "You, err, you used to be a human?" His tone was unreadable, besides the fact that the man had suddenly gotten secretive. What is it? Is he scared? Mad? What?! Pacco nodded slowly, glancing at the door himself. "Tell me the story. Tell me everything." Oromis's eyes lightened and he threw the bone to the side to lean forward in his seat, studying the wolf closely.

And so Pacco told.

[Chiroptera]

The staircase didn’t last as long as Eltarri had thought it would. It only curled twice in its rail-less encasing before opening to a large, unlit foyer of dark stone. Beleger led the way towards the dark wooden double-doors at the far end, but he was still a few feet away when they began to open, swinging slowly inwards without any visible sign of force. Shira turned to the half-elf behind her and rolled her eyes, pointing upwards with a shrug. Her earlier words echoed in Eltarri’s mind. Gamen doesn’t listen in on us unless we’re on a mission. Was he watching them now? Eltarri shuddered and quickly stepped after the pair as they swept through the doorway and into the darkening street. The sky was a hazy mix of pink and dark blue, about the same color that it had been the last time she was outside. She glanced down at her gloved hands and felt a twinge of pain at the bending of her neck. How could so much have happened in just three days?

A small, long-fingered hand landed on her arm and Eltarri jumped guiltily, looking up to meet the worried gaze of the dryad, whose mouth was already moving.

“ . . . feeling all right? If you’re not ready, I’m sure Bel will let you-,” Her head whipped around and Eltarri followed her gaze to the high elf, though he stood too far away for her to read his mouth in the dim light. A moment later Shira’s head turned back and she gave the taller girl a sympathetic shrug. “Then again, maybe not.” She turned and raced off down the street after the already-moving high elf and Eltarri went after them, quickening her pace when they turned down a side street. Shira had stopped and impatiently beckoned Eltarri when she turned the corner before running again after Beleger.

Eltarri sighed and broke into a jog, fighting anxiety as the sky continued to darken. Looking around at the large buildings that surrounded them, Eltarri recognized with surprise that they were in the upper district of Scara Brae, which meant that the wizard’s headquarters were nestled somewhere among the mansions of the richest and most influential people of the city! He’d said that he had to “venture out in disguise,” but did that mean he actually socialized with normal, everyday people who didn’t know he was a wizard? Was that legal?

The girl turned her attention back to the two in front of her, wondering how far they would have to go at this pace. She was already short of breath, and the jouncing of the sword on her back was beginning to hurt her shoulder.

The blond head of the high elf swiveled and he was glaring at the girl almost before he’d even come to a complete stop. Eltarri skidded to a halt and breathed deeply, hoping that she wasn’t wheezing. It’d been a while since she’d last had to exert herself like this. Beleger stepped up to her, frowning as he spoke.

“You sound like a peasant army on the rampage,” he muttered as he approached. Before she had even finished processing what he’d said he was behind her, jerking and twisting at the sling that held her sword. His rough fiddling pulled her off balance and she stumbled backwards, but the high elf just used his grip on the sling to shove her back upright. Eltarri worked at tightening the buckles on the front of her harness, keeping her eyes down and hoping her face wasn’t as red as it felt to be. Why did everyone insist on treating her like a baby?

A moment later Beleger stepped around her and looked to Shira, mouth moving too quickly for Eltarri to catch what he said. Eltarri experimentally bounced on her toes and found that whatever the high elf had done had secured her sword into its sling so that it barely moved at all. Shira nodded, grinning impishly, and took a step towards Eltarri.

“Here, let me teach you. You don’t want to run, ‘because that’s always loud. Don’t focus on stepping so much, and think of yourself as water gliding down a hill.” She took a few slow steps sideways, exaggerating a gait that Eltarri had never seen before, crouching low and stepping so that her feet barely lifted off the ground. “I call it 'the lope.'”

Eltarri took a tentative step, trying to imitate Shira’s pace. Beleger stood with his arms crossed and frowned with characteristic humor.

“Got it? Good job!” Shira enthusiastically clapped her hands and turned shining eyes to Beleger.

“As long as she stops stampeding, we’re fine.” He said before turning and heading off again down the street. Shira trailed him and Eltarri grudgingly followed as well, determinedly trying to “lope” while attempting to ignore her troubled thoughts. Beleger’s mouth barely moved when he last spoke, as if he was keeping his voice down and aiming for secrecy. How could she keep up the guise if she couldn’t catch any of his orders? She’d have to make a fast escape if she was going to get away before he figured out that she couldn’t hear him.

The sky was completely dark and only a sliver of moon sat in the clouds to shine weak light onto them. They had left the residential district and moved into the merchant’s quarters, where the streets they went through were lined with shops and stores. They passed few people, mostly retiring labor men who were too weary to notice their abnormally dark dress and rag-wrapped beggars who were wise enough not to call out for charity. Beleger had kept up a steady pace, turning it seemed at random in a snaking pattern that left Eltarri thoroughly confused as to where they were going and where they’d come from, which may have been the point.

Thirty minutes later Eltarri’s thighs were aching, but she was barely breathing hard when Beleger stopped in an alley and turned towards the girls. His face was hard as he spoke, eyes flickering between the two as if making sure that they didn’t get distracted. Eltarri’s gaze was fastened onto his mouth, but his quick speech and the dark light made it difficult for her to see. “Let’s do this quickly. We need . . . . . . . and . . . . Shira, you’re playing look-out on the roof, I think . . .” he turned to point up towards the roof of the two-story building behind him and Eltarri lost his train of words until he turned back around and fixed his glare onto her. “. . . inside, but we’ll need to find the safe or whatever he uses to . . .”

With a mock salute Shira grinned and raced off, darting down the street that they had come down. Beleger glared after her until she turned the corner, then spoke again to Eltarri.

“We should have as much time as we need, but I still want this done . . . . . . . and try not to do anything stupid. Your job will be to . . . .” He spoke too quickly for the girl to understand and she stared at him blankly in what she hoped was an uncomprehending-but-not-idiotic manner. “Understand?”

Eltarri shook her head. The blond elf scowled down at her, eyes narrowing dangerously, but Eltarri held his gaze, too afraid to risk losing sight of his mouth. When he spoke next, she watched his mouth as well as she could without making her gawk obvious, but she still missed some of what he said.

“You’re going in with me. Find . . . . . . . . . . . . . to me. Understand?”

Afraid of what he would do if she showed her ignorance again, Eltarri dumbly nodded and Beleger turned away without another word, motioning with one hand the way one would with a trained dog or a child. She petulantly considered ignoring his summons, but decided not to aggravate him any more than her deafness made absolutely necessary.

The two dark-cloaked figures stepped out of the alley and onto a wide, empty street. The cobbles beneath Eltarri’s feet told her that this was the nicer part of the merchant’s district; the poorer part of the area was paved only with hard-packed dirt. Beleger turned left and crossed the street to stand at the door of a two-story building. Eltarri paused in the street to read the large wooden sign that hung over the doorway. A jeweler?

Fighting confusion, the girl went closer to the high elf to see what he was doing. He stood upright, but his hands were moving busily from the padlocked handle of the door to his belt, fiddling with pin-like tools and jostling the latch. His face was still, his eyes focused unseeingly on the wooden door in front of him. A moment later, one corner of his mouth lifted and the door sprang open under his hand. He slipped into the dark interior and held the door as Eltarri went into the shop after him, then shut it firmly behind her. She saw his lips moving as he went past her again, towards the stairs along one wall, but it was too dark and he moved too quickly for her to see what he said.

Sighing in frustration, she looked around at the room in front of her. It was a smaller shop than it had appeared to be from outside, a room without carpet whose only furniture was a long counter along the wall farthest away from her that stretched from one side of the room to the other. Eltarri stepped further into the room and went to the counter. The wall behind it was covered in an ornately-carved relief of twisting trees and sprawling vines. Eltarri stared in awe at the wall, struck by the magnificence of the work. Even in the darkness, the fruit hanging from the trees looked real enough to eat!

Looking down over the counter, Eltarri was surprised to see that there was an inconspicuous branch sticking out of the wall on the side of a tree that the counter hid from view. Glancing up the stairs told her that the elf was already on the second floor, so Eltarri awkwardly vaulted the counter, wincing when she felt her sword smack against the wooden edge. She paused on the other side, but Beleger remained unseen. Bending down to look closer, Eltarri saw that the branch was actually some kind of handle, disconnected from the rest of the wall. She experimentally twisted it and nearly fell back in surprise when a section of the wall swung suddenly towards her.

The door was smaller than the one that led to the outside, but it was made of a thick wood. She stepped past it and peered curiously into a windowless room that was sparsely filled with loaded tables and chests. She bent over one table and saw that it held a large glass box with a cushion inside of it, a number of ornate bracelets on top. Beside it was another glass box, this one containing rings on a similar cushion. Looking out across the small room, Eltarri saw that all of the tables held display cases that were filled with jewelry.

So what are WE doing here?



((Wolf has decided to leave this quest, so from here on out it'll be solo. Full bunnying rights, however, were granted.))

[Chiroptera]

The chests on the floor were all locked, but there was a counter along the back wall that was short and covered with metal shavings and tools. Down the front of the counter was a row of drawers, all of which resisted her pull when she tried to open them. The darkness was beginning to wear at the girl’s nerves. She shrugged and turned to leave the room, weaving back through the tables to open the door that had apparently shut itself behind her. The sight that met her eyes on the other side made her stop in the doorway.

Beleger stood on the public side of the counter with his sword drawn, the other hand grasping the collar of a fat and obviously blubbering man who waved chubby hands and shook his head in denial. Blood gushed from his nose and mouth, and as Eltarri watched the high elf brought the hilt of his scimitar down and slammed it into the man’s face. She jumped forward involuntarily, reflexively moving to stop him from hurting the man. But she wore the same dark material that he did. Wasn’t she helping the Legions of Light? Weren’t they the good guys?

Beleger’s head jerked up at her movement and his eyes widened as they landed on the doorway she stood in. He dropped the fat man and moved towards her.

“Make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.”

Eltarri’s heart was pounding as she went back over the counter and stood uncertainly over the man. He was dressed in a long purple gown that seemed to be sleepwear and his hair was a disheveled mess. He turned a tear-streaked face up to her, eyes wide with fear.

“Please, I’m sorry! I didn’t have any choice in the matter; the price of mithril has been rising for months! Tell Gamen I’ll give him his price. I’ll do anything, I swear! Please . . .”

Not knowing what to do and still feeling sick to her stomach, Eltarri turned away from his pleading in time to see Beleger reappearing from the secret room, sword still drawn but now carrying a small sack in the other hand. His face was dark as he shoved the bag at her and grabbed the merchant’s collar. The girl could only follow as he dragged the man across the floor. He threw the door open wide and went on into the street, the larger man’s kicking and squirming unheeded as he pulled him to the center of the street and then let him fall again. The elf turned again and looked back at the shop, and Eltarri could have sworn that she saw a flicker of regret, but then his gaze landed on her and the old coldness was back.

“Keep him here.”

Eltarri wordlessly watched him go back into the building, not bothering to look at the merchant, who seemed too traumatized to do more than mumble into the stones. She bit her lip and watched the doorway anxiously, wondering what it was Beleger had gone to get. The bag in her hand was light, and when she peeked inside all she saw was a handful of silver loops and trinkets. They hadn’t come out all this way to steal jewelry, had they?

Unexpectedly, something small and hard bounced against the back of Eltarri’s head. Turning in the direction that the projectile had come from, she saw that the street was still deserted. Her confusion cleared when another pebble smacked onto the top of her head. Looking up, her gaze landed on the barely-discernable protrusion of a head from the roof of the taller building across the street. A short arm waved, and Eltarri almost smiled as she waved back to the dryad. Shira didn't seem the kind to condone unjustified violence. Regardless of how brutal Beleger was, the merchant must have done something to deserve it.

If she ignored the sick feeling in her stomach, Eltarri could almost believe it.

It was only a few minutes later when Beleger stepped again through the doorway, his mouth set in a hard line. He walked to the merchant and roughly kicked him onto his back, then reached down to draw the man’s face closer to his own by the collar of his gown. Eltarri discreetly edged around until she had a view of both of their faces.

“. . . if you think that the Black Wizard lets anyone take advantage of him. You think he doesn’t know about your side-dealings with Oromis?”

“I swear to you, I’ve never sold or bought anything from any wizard other than Gamen! I am loyal, I swear! Please have mercy!”

Beleger’s face could have been carved from marble. “It’s too late for mercy.”

Eltarri didn’t hear the explosion, but she saw the flash of light that came suddenly from the jeweler’s shop. The stillness of the night was shattered as purple flames sprang up within the windows and burst through the doorway, leaving trails of black ash along the walls and illuminating the interior of the shop with a glowing, writhing mass of flames.

Eltarri stared in horror at the lavender inferno, cowering when the windows exploded in a shower of glass fragments. Beleger wasn’t watching the fire. His icy gaze was focused on the merchant, whose head whipped back and forth between his store and Beleger, eyes gaping, mouth churning, and hands gesturing frantically.

“You can’t! You . . . . to listen to . . . my life . . .”

Eltarri felt her empathy for the man disappear. Why was he blubbering? Even if he had lost everything he owned, at least he was still alive. She had no doubt that Beleger was capable of worse things than a simple shop-burning. He should be glad to still have all of his extremities.

“They’ve been taken care of.”

The words from Beleger made the merchant fall still, staring stupidly at the high elf with horrorstruck eyes. Eltarri glanced back and forth from the man to the elf, hoping for some kind of explanation.

They?

Movement at one of the upper windows of the burning shop drew Eltarri’s attention, and with crushing dismay she saw that the motion wasn’t, as she’d been hoping, the fluttering of a curtain in the heat.

It was a boy whose mouth was open in a scream as he smacked his palms uselessly against the glass.

[Chiroptera]

The air left Eltarri’s lungs in a gasp and she felt her mouth moving, struggling to make words that could express what she wanted to convey. Her garbling was missed in the fire that consumed their attention and the jeweler’s home. The merchant was once again frenetically motioning, screaming and struggling against the high elf’s iron grip. Beleger was looking at the window as well, and though Eltarri could only see a small part of his face, she read his muttered words as though he were yelling at high noon.

“No . . . I got them all . . .”

Swallowing a scream, Eltarri moved before she had time to think through the impulse. She raced across the street and had barreled into the open doorway before she knew what she was doing. The heat bit into her skin, but the girl was moving too quickly to do more than distractedly notice it. Flames danced across the floor, climbing the walls and hanging from the ceiling. The staircase was burning, but Eltarri climbed it in leaps, one arm holding her cloak in front of her face to shield herself from the heat. The purple fire had already reached the upper story, eating away at the wooden floor of the hall and at the two doors that faced each other, one on either side.

Eltarri grabbed the handle of the door that led to the room on the side closest to the street, then reflexively jerked her hand back before she had even felt the heat of the metal through her glove. But there was no way she’d be able to ram her way through the door.

Gritting her teeth, Eltarri wrenched the handle and pulled open the door, distantly noticing that even though she felt the heat, her hand felt completely unharmed. The door swung open and Eltarri went through, coughing at the cloud of black smoke that greeted her within. With watery eyes she saw that the room had four beds, three of which were occupied by small figures like the one that was kneeling on a window seat, still banging against the glass. But why were the other children still asleep?

Stepping up to one of the beds, Eltarri pulled back the blanket, preparing to wake the child up. A puddle of blood met her gaze, a young girl with open, lifeless eyes at its center.

He . . .? The thought was too ghastly to finish. Her throat closed as she fought nausea, unable to tear her eyes away from the gaping slit across the child’s neck. A wave of heat washed over her from the burning ceiling overhead and the small part of her mind that was still functional screamed for movement. But who would have killed a child?

A hand clamped suddenly onto her shoulder, jerking her backward just as a burning piece of the ceiling fell where she had been standing. The purple flames obscured the girl's bloodless face, and Eltarri turned her head to see the shouting mouth of Beleger. He was yelling something, his face flushed from the heat of the fire, and he shoved her towards the door. Eltarri’s thoughts were too jumbled for rationality. She squared her jaw and turned back, facing the high elf with a hate-filled glare. How could you?

“Get your ass out of here!”

Eltarri stormed past him, kicking a burning chair out of her way and dodging to avoid the arm that he shot out to stop her. She may not have been a full-blooded elf, but she had at least half of their reflex speed. Sweat soaked her shirt and her lungs burned as she reached the window and grabbed the boy around his waist, tightening her arms into a firm belt and hugging the child to her chest. His body was limp, but she ducked and ran for the door, not pausing to look at the livid face of the high elf. Her eyes were watery and she nearly tripped going down the stairs, but then she was through the door and outside, sucking air into her dry lungs and fighting the hoarse coughs that racked her body. She fell to her knees and laid the boy on the street, realizing with fear that his eyes were closed and his limbs were still.

Eltarri’s hands fluttered helplessly over the boy’s face, slapping his cheek and pressing her fingers against his neck in search of a pulse. Was he breathing? She couldn’t tell. His chest definitely wasn’t moving, but . . .

A familiar hand shoved her sideways, and Eltarri scrabbled out of the way as Beleger kneeled beside the boy and tipped his head back, opening the boy’s unmoving mouth. He pulled a vial out of his belt and uncorked it with his teeth, then emptied it into the child’s mouth. He tossed the vial to the side and turned furious eyes onto her.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Didn’t you hear the ceiling crack?”

Eltarri was saved from having to respond when the boy’s chest began to rise and fall swiftly, his mouth gaping open and tears streaking once again down his cheeks. He sat up and looked sideways, and his mouth opened and his face became redder than Eltarri’s shirt as he screamed a long, breathless siren. Eltarri followed his gaze and saw the merchant lying face-down on the street, only a few paces from where she’d left him, golden-fletched arrows sticking out of his back.

Beleger’s face was red, too, but his was flushed with anger. She saw him curse as he slammed his elbow into the boy’s face, knocking him back to the street.

“Let’s go.” He stood and moved away. Eltarri rose shakily to her feet, eyes fixed on the boy. He laid quivering, blood pouring from his nose and down the sides of his pale face. Large brown eyes fixed onto her face, filled with terror.

No, she thought to him weakly. I’m the good guy.

A lithe figure darted into her peripheral vision, and Eltarri looked up as Shira jogged towards her, face wrinkled in as unhappy a frown as she seemed capable.

“Tub of lard took four arrows, can you believe it?” Her face cleared in an instant. “Come on, Bell’s mad as a branded bull. We gotta go before he blows a vessel!”

Eltarri pointed questioningly to the boy. Shira shrugged and shook her head.

“Gamen won’t want him if he isn’t Elven. Just leave him, I’m sure someone will take care of him.”

She darted off towards Beleger, who was standing beside the merchant’s body, impatiently frowning at them and darting his sharp gaze around the street. She couldn’t just leave the boy . . . but she couldn’t take him with her. If anything, he’d probably end up being killed by the Legion of Light like the rest of his family. Surely there were some kind neighbors who would take him in, but there was nothing more she could do for him.

I’m sorry, she mouthed at the boy, then turned and fled to her team.

[Chiroptera]

Shira was pulling her arrows out of the merchant, wiping the heads on his nightgown before tucking them into the quiver on her back. Beleger had been looking down the street, but his eyes moved to her as she got nearer, his face still set in a scowl.

“They’re coming.”

Shira’s head jerked towards him, her eyes wide. “For us?”

“No, for the other people who set purple fire to a house.”

“I like the color,” she announced. “It adds a nice touch.”

Eltarri was too sick to her stomach to do more than watch them speak. The body at her feet, the boy behind her, and the radiating heat of the fire weighed on her conscience, pushing her to do something, but she was too befuddled for action.

"They're faster that I thought they'd be," Beleger muttered. The purple light made the planes of his face ever harsher than they had seemed before, rigid and unmoving and merciless. He glanced at Eltarri, a quick, questioning look that lasted for only an instant before changing back into the dislike that she was accustomed to.

“Keep quiet and stay close.” He took one last look down the street and then broke into a run down the alley they had arrived from. Shira sprinted after him, but Eltarri followed his look down the street. She saw what looked like two huge birds with wings that spanned the street, less than three blocks away and approaching quickly. Her eyes dropped to the boy, who still lay trembling on the stones. A rush of guilt closed her throat and she ran to the alley, where Beleger and Shira had stopped and were conversing. Shira glanced at her and then took off down the street, her bow slung over her shoulder. Beleger jerked his head after her and Eltarri obediently followed the dryad, the hairs on the back of her neck rising at the thought of the high elf behind her. Her thoughts were soon focused on keeping the tiny girl in sight as she darted down streets, leaping nimbly over puddles and slowing her pace every once in a while to do a cartwheel or a flip, grinning back at the elves when she did.

Eltarri’s lungs were ready to burst when Shira finally stopped at the door of the wizard’s mansion, hands resting on her hips and a smile splitting her face. Eltarri did her best to muffle her heavy panting. The little thing wasn’t even out of breath!

“Aier, you’re funny,” Shira declared. “ And you’re weird, Bell.”

Eltarri turned sideways so that she could see the high elf, who was standing behind her with his lips pressed firmly together in a frown. How unexpected.

He spoke as he walked past her to the door, but it was still too dark for her to see clearly. “The only thing that’s . . .”

Shira laughed at whatever he had said, her green eyes glancing conspiratorially Eltarri. Her mouth moved animatedly when she talked, so Eltarri could read what she said even without good lighting. “She is a little odd, but at least she knows how to make a quiet exit, and how to ignore weird elves who call people’s names when they’re trying to run. How come you wanted me to lead if you were going to make all that noise in the back?”

Eltarri’s blood ran cold. Her eyes jumped to Beleger and met his as he looked suddenly at her, chagrin pulling down his brows. He’d been calling names? She hadn’t looked back at him once.

He knew.

Without a thought she tore into a run, diving sideways to avoid the high elf’s lightning-fast lunge that she had subconsciously been expecting. His hand brushed her wrist, but she shot past him and was running harder than she ever had before. She could have sworn that she heard her heartbeat pounding in her ears, but even as her feet hammered against the street she knew her cause was lost. She was just a half-elf; she would never be as fast as one of her full-blooded relatives.

Beleger juggernauted into her back with enough force to knock the breath out of her lungs. He slammed her face-first onto the ground and pinned her shoulders with one arm while the other grabbed her wrists. Eltarri bucked and squirmed, fighting him and the resignation that told her she was already defeated.

You deserve to be caught. You’re evil.

The boy’s weeping face flashed in her mind and Eltarri stopped struggling, filled with self-loathing at the memory of the part she had played in his family’s murder. I didn’t know!

You were too selfish to care.

Her wrists were tightly bound, the rope cutting into her skin. A piece of cloth descended over her eyes – it must have been Shira; Beleger was still holding her down – and was wrapped tightly around her head.

I saved the boy’s life . . .

You left an orphan to live on the streets. Don’t even pretend that by putting the boy into a hard, lonely life you’ve somehow vindicated yourself for your wrongs. You’re STILL evil.

Tears soaked into the blindfold as Eltarri was pulled to her feet. Beleger’s hand stayed on her back and shoved her forward, back down the street and up the steps to the foyer of the wizard’s mansion. Her secret was out. What would the wizard do to her when he found out that she was flawed? Would Beleger tell him that she wasn’t even a pure elf?

Eltarri was aware of the carpeted ground beneath her feet, the rough hand on her shoulder, and the taste of dirt in her mouth. Her eyes were wide open, searching for even a hint of light through the cloth. She followed Beleger's herding like a lamb being led to the slaughter, doing her best to keep from panicking at the silent darkness that drowned her mind.

[Chiroptera]

The ground beneath her feet was carpeted for a while before it changed suddenly to downward-leading stairs. Eltarri stumbled forward blindly, outstretched hands smacking once against something horizontal and flat as she descended. Then the ground was soft and gritty, sand or hard-packed dirt. Panic swelled in her throat as she was pushed down onto a wooden chair before the guiding hands disappeared. Was she back in the room where they’d branded her? What were they going to do that required soundproof walls?

Ever cell in her body seemed strained to sense something, anything that would give her an idea of what was going on. Her hands lay in her lap, trembling uncontrollably. Her stomach twisted and her left calf was cramping from being clenched so tightly.

Calm down. Panicking isn’t going to help you. She forced herself to breathe normally, sucking a huge breath into her lungs and holding it as long as she could before releasing it.

Look on the bright side. Now you don’t have to pretend not to be deaf anymore. The thought did little to cheer her. What did bring a little relief was the knowledge that she would no longer be a member of the Legion of Light. Gamen had said that they were trying to protect the city, but how could killing entire families be beneficial for anyone? Making an example of the merchant didn’t seem a likely explanation, for even though his shop and home had been burnt with purple fire, the deed had been done at night; anyone with the slightest magical talent could have set the fire. And heroes definitely did not manifest the kind of disregard for life that Beleger had demonstrated, leaving Eltarri to conclude that the Legion of Light were no more heroic than the villains that antagonized the heroes of her stories. Picturing the sweet-faced dryad as a baddie was hard, but Eltarri reminded herself that she'd shot the merchant full of arrows without a thought of his son's welfare. She may even have known that Beleger was going to massacre the family. Had they planned to kill all of them? She couldn't believe that anyone who claimed to be good could do something so evil.

And yet you are one of them. With revulsion Eltarri realized that she still wore the cloak and black gloves that Beleger had given her before they’d left. They were so light and fitted that she’d forgotten their presence. Taking off the cloak was more trouble than it was worth, but she tore the gloves off her hands and hurled them into the air in front of her, hoping she would hit whoever might be in the room with her.

But . . . was there anyone? She’d been sitting alone on the chair for the last fifteen minutes and hadn’t even felt a stirring of air. Her hands tentatively rose and pushed the blindfold off her head. Darkness still flooded her vision, but there was a sliver of light coming from the ceiling over her head a few feet in front of her. As her eyes grew nominally more adjusted to the darkness she saw the vague outline of a familiar table in front of her and nothing else.

She stood and slowly spun a complete circle, scanning the darkness to see if anything was hiding. When she was satisfied that she was the room’s only occupant, she went and stood beneath the trapdoor and futilely tried to locate some kind of handle. When she failed to find one, she blundered across the room to the corner farthest from the trapdoor and sat on the ground, tilting the sword on her back so that it leaned against the floor. Pulling her knees against her chest, she rested her chin on her forearms, keeping her eyes focused on the slice of light and trying to keep herself from falling asleep as she waited for the reappearance of her captors.

[Chiroptera]

She jerked awake when the stairs above her were being pulled back up into the ceiling. The room was still dark, but her heart was pounding again, her tiredness instantly gone. What had happened while she slept? Did they put something into the room with her? She stood slowly, pushing against the wall behind her and turning her head in search of movement. Maybe the room wasn’t so much a prison as it was an arena . . .

A lantern hanging from the center of the ceiling flared to life, casting an incongruously warm light over the room. Eltarri flattened herself against the wall as the room’s other occupants became visible. Beleger stood a few paces away from her near the wall on her right and the wizard was beside the table, hands on his hips and mouth moving beneath a puckered brow.

“. . . couldn’t believe it when Bel told me, but I guess it must be true. I’m sad that you didn’t trust me with the truth before you were sent to do my work, but I suppose that your performance made up for the lack of honesty.”

My performance? Eltarri’s gaze flickered to the high elf, who stood impassively with his arms folded across his chest. His blue eyes bored into her and she quickly turned back to the wizard.

“Yes, Bel told me what you did, and I must say that I am terribly impressed with your loyalty. It is not often that one will face the most fearsome of my enemy’s warriors . . . and come out completely . . .” He beamed at her like a proud parent, seeming completely unaware of her confusion. Eltarri tried to keep herself from looking as foolish as she was deaf, but she was having trouble. Loyalty? The only person she’d “faced” was Beleger, and that was by directly disobeying his orders.

“Since you saved Lirimaer from the harpy,” the high elf said, his face perfectly still “Master Gamen has decided to let you remain in his army.”

Eltarri’s mouth dropped open. He was going to let her stay in the legion even though was deaf? She hadn’t done anything to warrant his approval, so why had Bel lied? The dryad wouldn’t have wanted her to get in the way if she was under attack. She was more of a burden than a help, and . . . a harpy? She’d never even seen one before, unless those massive bird-things she’d seen coming down the street . . .

“There is one thing, however, that I should make clear to you.” The wizard was no longer smiling. His face was stern as he said, “If I give you hearing, I expect you to understand that your commitment to the Legion of Light is lifelong, and . . .”

Eltarri stopped watching his mouth, her eyes jumping to Beleger as if to verify the wizard’s words. Give me back my hearing? She hadn’t even believed that it would be possible. Did he really have that power?

“. . . right now, if you wish.” He was looking at her expectantly, waiting for some kind of response.

Lifelong commitment. No doubt whatever he did would make it so that he could track her wherever she went, eliminating her chances of escape. If she agreed and got back her hearing, she’d be a virtual slave to the will of the wizard, and regardless of how terrible his orders were she’d have to obey them. On the other hand, if she refused to be healed – and assuming that she wouldn’t just be killed on the spot – she’d spend the rest of her life a handicapped wanderer, useless to her mother.

There could be other wizards who could heal you. But would this one even let her leave? How much worse would it be if she was forced to stay as a deaf slave?

Eltarri nodded before the tumultuous thoughts in her hand had the chance to be clarified. The wizard smiled.

“Very good. I look forward to making you a permanent part of my army.” He looked to Beleger and spoke too rapidly for Eltarri to understand. Beleger pulled a tiny drawstring bag from his belt and laid it on the table. Gamen went and stood by the chair, once again gesturing for her to take a seat.

Swallowing fear, Eltarri edged cautiously forward and sat hesitantly in the chair. Beleger stood beside the table this time, in her range of vision. Gamen, on the other side of the table, was shaking small, shiny objects out of the bag.

“This,” he began, holding up a ring too small to fit on even her small fingers, “is mythril. It’s a powerful metal for weaponry, but its most useful skill for our purposes is its ability to hold spells for extremely long periods of time. Think centuries.” He smiled fondly at the ring, then looked back at her. She noticed that he spoke more clearly now than he had before, enunciating as if he were teaching a child how to speak. “This particular set of rings I’ve been working on since Beleger brought you back with the truth of your condition. I used a spell that I’m quite fond of normally, but I also modified it somewhat to fulfill our specific needs.”

Eltarri wished he would stop talking and get on with whatever he was going to do before her conscience won over her yearning to hear and made her change her decision. She nodded quickly and tried not to look at the ring in his hand. That’s what the boy's family died for . . .

“All right, then, I want you to relax and don’t move, no matter what you feel.” Gamen set the bag down with a ring grasped between the index finger and thumb of each hand. He came and stood before her, resting his rear against the table as he bent down to peer at the sides of her head. For a moment while he was examining her ears, his face looked troubled, as though he’d observed something that didn’t quite catch his fancy. Eltarri felt a simultaneous rush of apprehension and hope. Her ears were smaller than most elves, so maybe that was what he’d noticed. He probably wouldn’t heal her if he knew she wasn’t full blood, but she couldn’t decide whether that would be good or bad.

“Bel’s going to help you make sure you don’t move, all right, Aier?” His paternal gaze was more frightening than it was reassuring, but Eltarri nodded again. Gamen patted her cheek and disappeared from view, but he was replaced by the high elf, who kneeled in front of her and rested his hands diagonally on either side of her head so that his fingers surrounded her ears. His skin was cold and Eltarri shivered, but she forced her eyes to stay fixed on his icy face.

Why did you lie for me?

The wizard’s warm fingers pushed something hard into each of her ears, and then his hot palms came to rest against them. Her only warning was a tightening of Beleger’s hands, and then the hard objects shot into her head, driven closer together with a force that made her jump.

She was still waiting for the pain when Beleger looked up, nodded, and then moved away. Gamen came to sit against the table again, looking intensely pleased with himself.

“I must say, whatever you had done to your eardrums really did quite a number on them. Completely mutilated! Perhaps when you can speak again you’ll tell me what weapon is so powerfully effective against an enemy’s senses, eh?” He seemed to be joking, but Eltarri shuddered at the memory of the little animal. It wasn’t an enemy that had deafened her, it had been an ally, and she wouldn’t tell him anyway if he was planning to inflict her condition on someone else. No one deserved to endure the helplessness that she had.

“Well, that was part one of the repair. Those rings in your ears are even now performing the spell that I cast upon them. To put it in relatively simple terms that you could understand, they’re suspending a magical web between them to act as a new and improved eardrum. Just one thing left to do, and then you’ll be whole.”

Eltarri bit her lip. Whole? She’d left a boy to die alone on the streets. She didn’t think she’d ever be really whole again.

Beleger handed the wizard another drawstring bag, and this time Gamen shook three slightly larger rings onto his palm. Staring hard at them, he mumbled a chant, lips barely moving, and then dropped his hand to his side. The three rings remained in the air. Eltarri noticed then that they were not full circles, that each had a small gap that prevented them from being complete.

Gamen looked soberly at the high elf. “Sorry to do this to you again, Bel.” Then he smiled at Eltarri. “Aier, brace yourself.”

One moment the rings were floating in the air, and in the next things with sharp teeth were biting into the lobes of her ears. With a cry she threw her hands to the sides of her head, but by then the pain was already receding to a throb. But now there were three hard little rings piercing her earlobes, two on her right ear and one on her left. A quick glance at Beleger showed her that he was sporting a fourth silver hoop and an annoyed expression that hadn’t been there the last time she’d looked. Her own ears were smarting, but she knew that full elves' ears were even more sensitive than her own. She winced, hoping the high elf wouldn't blame her for the pain.

“Sorry for the scare; I found the procedure hurts less if you don’t know the pain is coming.”

Eltarri felt for a moment as though she were going to break down and cry. Her eyes were still on the high elf, and even though someone had said something and her brain had recognized the words, his lips hadn’t moved.

[Chiroptera]

“It looks like you’ve been healed then.”

Eltarri turned to look at the speaker, the wizard, whose voice was like oil. She stared at him, overcome with gratitude. She wanted to thank him aloud, but she was afraid that her voice would still come out sounding strange. She nodded instead.

“Good. I will leave you to Beleger’s care, so that you may rest well before your next mission.” He turned away, then stopped and turned back. “I want you to realize, my dear Aier, that I am greatly pleased to have you in my army. But I must also tell you that I take your vow to stay in my army very seriously. I have given your life a purpose and returned your hearing to you, but if you betray me, I can take it all away in an instant.,” Eltarri had been watching him talk out of habit, and it was only because of this that she was able to catch the last three words of his warning. For a brief moment, her hearing was once again gone, and even though the silence lasted for only a few seconds, the terror that struck nearly made her scream aloud.

“So, I will see you again soon.” The wizard smiled and left, ascending the staircase that had once again magically lowered itself from the ceiling. Eltarri was caught up in the world of sound. The creaking of wood, the rustling of clothes, even the noise of her own breathing filled her ears and made her heart lift joyfully. She could hear! Sure, she’d practically sold her soul to the devil to do it, but at the moment it seemed more than worth it. She rubbed her hands together, the whisper of her palms against each other like a song to her sound-hungry ears.

“When you’re finished playing with your fingers . . .” Eltarri’s eyes rose to the high elf. He stood impatiently beside the staircase, eyes fixed distastefully on the girl. His voice was almost what she would have expected it to be, cold and filled with loathing, but it was also deep and melodic, the kind of voice one would expect from a minstrel or a singer instead of a cold-blooded killer.

“Why . . .” the word croaked out, sounding loud and scratchy, and Eltarri cleared her throat to try again. “Why did you lie for me?”

Beleger frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?” His hand rose and fingered the silver loop-filled new hole in his earlobe, and he gave her a hard, pointed look.

The earrings. Blushing at her error, Eltarri shook her head and stood, walking across the room like a child about to be punished. She always acted so stupidly when she was around the high elf. “I mean, I didn’t do all that much. You helped Shira . . . too.” The sound of her own voice was something she’d never expected to hear again, though the dumb words were approximately what she was accustomed to.

“Don’t be modest.” Even the chiding semi-compliment sounded like an order to be immediately obeyed. She walked quickly up the staircase, still nervous of the high elf behind her even though now she could hear his footsteps fall on the wooden stairs.

“Is . . . is Shira all right?” She had been trying to think of a covert way to ask to speak to the dryad, but that was the best she could come up with.

“You’re in your own room.” It didn’t quite answer the question, but it told Eltarri how he felt about idle conversation. At the top of the stairs he brushed past her and set off at a swift pace down the hall, turning the corner with a short glance to see if she was following. He needn’t have bothered; she was trailing on his heels like a well-trained puppy, afraid of sparking his temper and having to deal with his audible ire.

Beleger stopped suddenly in front of a door and turned to her. “Shira will come when you’re needed. Until then, I suggest you stay in there and out of trouble.”

Eltarri nodded hard and pushed open the door, recognizing the sparse chamber that she had been kept in before. The straw mat on the floor made her brand itch, reminding her of the miserable hours she’d spent on top of it.

“Could I possibly-,” she stopped herself when she turned and saw that Beleger had disappeared. Looking down both sides of the hall to make sure that he was really gone, Eltarri shut the door and went to sit on the mat. For a moment she merely sat and stared at the wall across from her, listening to the air as it moved and the straw as it crunched beneath her. Why had she never appreciated such mundane pleasures before? She had always been comfortable in places where sound was scarce, but she was now suddenly finding that the world was never silent! Bright sunlight filtered in through the glass of her window and made shapes with the shadows from the outcropping rocks on the wall. She rested her back against the cool stones behind her and watched the light dance, dozing in the warmth until a soft knock on her door broke the silence.