Vampiris Sancti: The Elf (30 page)

The Goblin was
used to being ignored and only sought for wicked deeds or the
receipt of communiqués—usually threats arising from their past
endeavours. The presence of Beb didn’t disturb the Goblin who sat
looking unconcerned as he waited for the message. The eyes of the
Pixie were a blend of reds as they met yellow and his fluttering
slowed down until the beat of the Goblin’s heart echoed in his
ears. The room around them faded into a background murmur as they
fell into harmony, breath, heartbeat, their eyes locked, everything
decelerated as it merged into a synchronised grace. As with all
magical creatures, his eyes changed with the task and the bright
ruby gems darkened into burgundy crystals. The air became thick
with intent as thoughts weighed heavy against the mind of the
Goblin struggling not to lose himself within the intoxication.

Beb spoke, his
voice low and soothing, the intense energy of his focus burning
into the atmosphere surrounding them.

“There is,
there is, one of one and things to know and things to tell.”

“There
is...there is...,” the Goblin repeated—his voice lost to the
trance.

If he had
noticed the sobriety of the Pixie speaking to him it would have
already been too late as he was pixilated by the magical messenger.
A few moments later Beb was gone before the Goblin could shake off
the effects of the fascination. He would have been aware that the
Elders rarely sanctioned pixilation because it was a risky state
for a Pixie. Therefore, the Elf the Martyc craved would be his
first thought as only she could influence Beb to take such a public
risk. Pixilation didn’t mean an open entry into his thoughts
because Beb would have to sort through them, but eventually the
Pixie would know enough misdeeds to report to her. The Goblin would
have seen the virtue in his immediate absence before knowledge of
his affairs was shared with the local Xatn.

The Oric were
still on the roof when Beb returned and stood back as the exhausted
Pixie fell onto the surface while trying to catch his breath from
the stress of the encounter. The Oric enjoyed less natural talents
than those who visited their world, but they also were the crafty
ones and learned quickly how to deal with visitors. The leader
approached the struggling Pixie and handed something they had the
foresight and intelligence to obtain. It was the one thing he
needed the most—that Zyre should have provided but in usual Elf
fashion didn’t bother—a bottle of gin.

The pixilation
of the Goblin had been a success—well as much of a success as it
could be with one of them. The problem with the Nefarious was that
they were so invested in lies that it was nearly impossible to sort
out the truth from their thoughts. Beb wasn’t certain what was real
and what was planned, so he concentrated on the information of what
shouldn’t be present on the world. Once sifted through the
information he realised there were things that Zyre needed to know
and she needed to know them right away.

He took a large
swig from the bottle and turned to the Oric, “Take me to the
Elf.”

The Oric looked
at each other since the Pixie didn’t seem to understand the
boundaries of their world. His existence was one of such precarious
imaginings where everything was dangerous that he didn’t see the
danger in arriving at a Vampire house with a bunch of humans.

An Oric girl
tried to explain. “We can’t just arrive at a Vampire compound
because they might think we are attacking.”

Beb was
uninterested in the complexities of human/Vampire interaction for
the sooner he told Zyre the sooner he could convince her to leave
this world. The Martyc could take care of everything as they always
did and neither of them owed a thing to the Empire with its silly
expectations.

“She is at
Veraign, so I need be there—very swift.”

Beb had no idea
what Veraign was and he didn’t have the energy to sing for her or
the strength to wander about until he sensed her presence. He would
require a lot more gin before he could get his abilities back on
track. The leader spoke into a box and the Pixie had seen similar
communication devices before. Beb had never understood the strange
inability for creatures to find each other when all they had to do
was feel the air. A voice echoed and the Oric stiffened slightly at
the order before instructing his puzzled unit.

“Take him to
Veraign.”

“But—,” one
attempted to object.

“Just drop him
close—he can feel her from nearby.”

The group
closed themselves off from Beb as they voiced their concerns to
their leader until the Oric girl who spoke to Zyre earlier stepped
forward.

“Oh for God’s
sake I will take him. They don’t attack without good reason as
they’re too busy protecting the Veil.”

The men folded
their arms and glared at her while she pulled Beb to his feet. She
spoke to the Pixie as if he was hard of hearing.

“We are going
to take you there in a car. Do you understand what a car is? It’s
transportation on this world.”

She made
driving motions with her hands that would have made her magical
charge giggle if his mind was not scrambled with thoughts from the
Goblin. When Beb made no objection she took him firmly by his
elbow—the Pixie barely stood taller than her—both fine boned
slender beings. Another Oric stepped forward to take his other arm
and Beb had the unusual experience of being walked down stairs
before being placed inside the metal box called a car. She started
the engine causing the Pixie to explode into a paroxysm of
coughing.

“Your world
always stinks,” he fretted.

“Yeah, well if
yours is so great what are you doing here?” the Oric challenged as
his solemn face became red with annoyance.

If Beb was Zyre
then maybe he could have explained that his mission was an attempt
to save their stinking world from a fate worse than the Empire, but
instead he swigged upon the gin while hoping the bumpy ride would
soon be over. The artificial lights of the city burned a rainbow of
colours as they zoomed by and he fell into a reverie while admiring
their gleam against the dark sky until he remembered something.
Fumbling in his pockets he pulled out the wallet he had
appropriated earlier from the grumpy Oric male. It wasn’t that he
wanted to annoy him on purpose or that he needed anything from the
strange flat pouch—it was just that old habits die hard. He looked
through the contents, weird rectangles made of not real material.
Bored by them all, except the picture of a pretty girl, he left
them scattered across the back seat.

By the time the
car swerved to a stop he had already felt her essence despite the
dark presence of Vampires, the odd demon, and the warmth of the
humans. She floated upon the air, the warm floral bouquet from home
the scent that his senses welcomed. They turned down a quiet street
where Zyre was casually leaning against a tree as if meeting the
group was a planned occurrence. Once pulled over, the young man
jumped out and opened the door for Beb to depart but before he
could object—the Elf was sitting beside her friend.

“Out!” she
ordered.

Too smart to
argue, the girl exited to stand on the curb beside her companion
who scowled at the beings appropriating their car. Zyre turned to
Beb and searched his mind for illumination before he became too
inebriated for that was how Pixies scrubbed the information from a
pixilation out of their minds.

“The
Nefarious?” she queried.

Beb shook his
head as if the knowledge was burning his mind. “Too much bad, he
speaks to tainted Aunsin, there be too many Martyc and the
scourge.”

Zyre had to
sort it out as for him as it was fast merging into a nightmare of
fragments.

“The Aunsin—is
this one called Galt?”

Beb squinted as
he searched the chaos of his mind. “Yes—he knows of you, harm
there. There are too many Martycs about.”

The Elf tilted
her head attempting to decipher his concern. “Yes I know there be
the Xatn and another.”

Beb shook his
head. “There be more many—one be Myruj and other be woman.”

Zyre would have
dismissed the Myruj as they sometimes turned up and while one
speaking to an Aunsin was odd— the woman—that could only be one
person. Beb confirmed her suspicion with a name even the magical
didn’t want to hear, the renegade who would destroy entire worlds
to achieve an agenda—Taryst Janeb!

Her lore was
known well throughout the Reveal. She was the rebel Martyc woman
who dared to be a bandit, who dared to ask to become a Xatn, and
who was refused the post by her own kind. Beb knew of Taryst and
the legend of her turmoil as her upheavals were on a far grander
scale than Zyre managed. While Zyre was in the business of
bothering the Empire, the ruthless Taryst was on a road to bloody
destruction. Beb shook his head as if that filed information into
correct categories.

“There is
worse, the scourge, is not Outerworld—is Raiders.”

The
kaleidoscope of her eyes merged into a stormy teal because Raiders
meant the threat of imminent attack and this was not far-fetched
since the bandit queen would use anything to achieve her goals.

“Are you saying
Raiders are here?”

Beb looked
confused. “Here or coming, the Myruj—Taryst—Aunsin together. The
Nefarious was the link.”

Zyre gave him
her full attention, a prospect that made him hiccup nervously,
Elves paying mind meant trouble not of their creation. She picked
through her words as if remembering something.

“They were
speaking, Galt and one...near the Chambers...,” it was like a name
on the tip of her tongue had become suddenly crystalline in her
mind.

Finding his
bottle nearly empty and his mind confused with thoughts Beb
complained, “More juniper.”

“We are going
right now,” pacified the Elf as she waved for the Oric to approach
the car. The Oric girl stood patiently while the young man gave
Zyre a filthy glare.

“What now?” he
asked stiffly.

Beb watched her
slip back into the speech pattern of humans, for while he spoke the
language he never had the ease of communication with others that
Elves possessed.

“We need to get
to the fortress right now and no fussing about it.”

The young man
made to stand fast, but unencumbered by his pride the girl
understood this urgency had nothing to do with power. The Elf
looked unhappy and everyone—even the Oric knew that was a bad
sign.

Crashing back
into reality Beb also objected. “Dhaigre—no—no. Empire is too
bloody annoying.”

Zyre calmed
him. “But he controls the juniper, so that’s where we go.”

The girl revved
the engine and the young man, his face petulant without power,
reluctantly got in beside her “We will take you to the fortress,
but after that you’re on your own.” He said with violence.

Zyre ignored
his anger and Beb watched the unusual focus of his friend, except
it was not like her to aim for an actual objective. Typically she
would make her demand and if refused by an uninformed target would
then torment until they relented. By that time she usually no
longer cared about her initial request and wandered off to bother
someone that amused her more. Something else, like a soft wave,
caressed his memory and he turned to give her the information.

“Purple!”

“I know.” She
replied without concern.

Calmed by her
knowledge, for Elves always knew what rode the air, Beb sat back in
his seat as the car sped throughout the city. They drove briskly
down streets now tinged with light, but that made no difference to
the occupants as none was affected by the impending day. Beb gave
the Elf a mournful glance because he knew that this was no longer a
lark of avoiding the Elders. To seek a Martyc meant making choices,
cooperation, caring about the fate of a world. Somewhat relaxed by
the gin he looked at her to make sure this was the Elf of mischief
he had watched beyond worlds. She looked like Zyre, with copper
hair and those eyes that men would start wars over, but her face
was not relaxed. She was changing and it was either the diveye or
this world causing it. Though the Pixie noticed the difference in
his friend it didn’t stir him enough to ask her about it. Magical
beings rarely took the emotional turmoil of another on board as
they could barely cope with their own.

Once close to
the fortress the girl slowed the car down though before she could
speak Zyre had dissolved him away to the nearest roof. Beb
hiccupped loudly from the rapid transport, but they were
unconcerned by the noise as her firm grip meant the Vesi would keep
them unnoticed by any patrolling Varkja.

The Elf handed
him an apple that looked old and unappealing, but it was fermented.
“Eat!”

Beb frowned at
the offering because nothing from this stinky world, except
juniper, could possibly be nice.

She didn’t
accept the refusal. “Eat, this is nice food and with Empire we
never know how safe is safe.”

The Pixie bit
into the strange fruit to find himself both shocked and delighted
by the tasty treat. “Is a good one!”

His remark went
unheeded as Zyre pulled him down so she could watch the perimeter
of the fortress. Patrols were less visible to the onlooker while
the revealing light of day flicked through the sky. A dark car
drove swiftly down the road stopping when the large doors at the
base of the building opened for it.

“How are we
going to get in? Maybe break down doors or use Salvae and scare a
few Varkja! Or take the roof off and let it rain on the
Empire!”

However, Zyre
wasn’t in the mood for pranks—another sign of her strange
behaviour.

“Through the
front door I think.”

Her reply was
accompanied by another dissolve and the startled Pixie found
himself standing before the vast glass doors of the large building.
Beb hiccupped while a unit of Varkja rushed forward as they ignored
the slivers of light now turning them sparkling silver. Zyre
grinned, but then that was what Elves always did just before
setting someone’s hair on fire. Standing before the vast doors of
the building belonging to the Xatn of the Martyc Empire with no
more than an apple and an empty bottle of gin for protection Beb
was somewhat relieved the guards concentrated on the unconcerned
Elf.