Vampiris Sancti: The Elf (36 page)

Zyre put
herself atop an airshaft and gave the distance her entire focus for
the time of seeking cooperation was now past and they either pulled
together or died in the process of defending their personal
conceit. The Seal would prevent her participation beyond an initial
surprise and as she stood she looked like one admiring the clear
night sky. Only those of the magical world knew she was in battle
mode forcing a return into suspension in order to survive the
brutality of what was about to occur. Zyre stayed stationary as her
Elf ears strove to find the presence of the invaders, but it was
the most unlikely of them who gave the warning.

“They come,”
hissed Beb, the burgundy glow of his eyes meeting hers and she
could feel a thickening upon the air as they raced across the city
roofs.

The scourge of
the Reveal that had been kept at bay by a powerful Martyc was now
brought here by another also powerful Martyc. She didn’t anticipate
their numbers and she looked down to see knowledge of their
presence cross like a wave. First by the Varkja as they shimmered
silver under the moon, then through to the Vampires as they tensed,
until finally by the Oric who drew their own weapons in
response.

Zyre knew that
once revealed that she would no longer be effective in the fight.
She dissolved beside the head of Martyc security and motioned for
the Varkja to stand back as she stepped forward to greet the first
group. Instead of flooding the roof with bodies the Raiders stopped
upon the adjacent building before sending a volley of gunfire
towards the Elf. The beings behind her scattered because while the
bullets would kill the humans they could still incapacitate both
Vampire and demon for a short time.

At the distance
they were hiding the Salvae would use too much energy. Zyre
shimmered beside the Varkja who growled, “They have human
weapons—the noise will bring the locals and then we will have to
kill them too.”

The Elf gave
the glowering demon an impish smile. “No human killing allowed. You
forget that we got Beb!”

She appeared
beside the Pixie to discover him holding onto a protesting Oric
with an inebriated yet surprising grip of iron.

“These human
ones are slippery,” he commented irritably to the amused Elf.

“Let your
friend go because I need you to sing.”

Beb released
the grateful young Oric who vanished back to his group before
turning to Zyre with a hiccup. “Sing for what?”

They ducked
another passing volley for while bullets were fast magical were
faster and she pointed towards the Raiders hiding behind various
roof structures as they sent fire towards them.

“Sing to their
weapons and only theirs.”

Beb shrugged.
“Use Salvae—they be attacking!”

The Elf
frowned. “Too much work from this far—you sing and make it
better.”

Beb tried to
object, but instead hiccupped and she knew the sirens in the
distance indicated they wouldn’t be alone for much longer.

“If not, then
Varkja will kill humans that come soon—to protect the Veil.”

The Pixie
nodded a scowl for like Zyre he didn’t believe in harming the
innocent.

She pushed Beb
into the open while shouting to the others, “Cover your ears.”

Seeing the
confused look on the faces of the Oric who had no magical
experience she tried again—this time shouting it as an order.

“Cover your
ears NOW!”

The Pixie stood
under the night sky while the magical beauty of his fluttering was
lost upon concerned onlookers watching as bullets whizzed past him.
Beb no longer existed in the same space as they did, moving faster
and faster like a hummingbird until he was a blur. As his image
faded an eerie high pitch wail filled the night and even covered
ears could not block out the brutal invasion of mind and spirit.
Anguished howls came from the Raiders as their guns began to
vibrate to the wail, the metal becoming white hot while their souls
filled with grief as they hastily dropped their guns. The Elf knew
this only would get rid of the guns and not the Raiders. They were
well equipped to deal with hand-to-hand combat and the moment Beb
stopped she moved forward once again to greet the first
assault.

Even if she
hadn’t heard their battle cry the disturbing purpose of these
demons flooded into the atmosphere—an appalling mix of mindless
brutality and energetic greed. Had she left her affection for these
fragile humans behind and sat on the sidelines she still would have
recoiled from the ugly intent. They filled every space before her,
a barbarous rabble that choked her psyche, battered her essence,
tearing from her a response she never wished to make. A batch of
Raiders fifty strong crossed the roof with drawn swords and she
took a moment to determine how many she would decimate with the
Salvae. She could take out all fifty, but then she would be drained
and unable to defend herself or others for hours. Zyre had
experienced a battle only once before and she had only used the
Salvae once before to kill. The blooding had sent her spiralling
into mindless mayhem, aloof from the grasp of all other beings
until now. This was not a path she wanted, but her choices were no
longer limited for now they were gone.

Their ambition
surrounded her before their physical manifestation and as the Elf
ran towards them—she knew they would attack her despite being
unarmed. The evil of their aspiration had her remove any pangs of
sorrow she might have had because they had forced her to decide how
many she would kill. They rushed the roof dressed in their
well-known black garb with nearly impenetrable leather-like
protectors covering their joints. They were almost as tall as the
Varkja, but not as broad with gangly arms and legs, which gave them
the deceptive appearance of floundering in the atmosphere. This
illusion often served to their advantage making others
underestimate their prowess until the victim realised these
ungainly thieves were masters at close quarter fighting. Since the
Raiders spent most of their time fighting and little of it thinking
the first band that crossed over didn’t bother to query why their
opponent had no weapons and duly attacked her. Zyre stopped
suddenly and a blast from the Salvae had fifteen become a cloud of
dust falling upon the sweeping winds as it guided their remains
back through the Reveal.

Zyre knew her
dash was done for now the others would not strike her and she would
be reduced to annoying them while they attacked the others present.
Hearing a yelp she turned to see Beb fending off a sword with a
bottle of gin while leaning half off the side of the building. She
jumped onto the back of his attacker while covering his eyes with
her hands.

“Guess who?”
she queried the Raider as he flailed about until an Oric stepped
forward to deal with him.

Zyre jumped off
to watch earth steel meet Viznix and then shatter helplessly under
the superior demon weapon. Ready to intercede once again she found
her help was not required as the Oric calmly pulled a stun gun from
his vest and zapped the demon into a helpless pile upon the ground.
Zyre ignored the impending death of the Raider. She returned to
being the Elf of legend in order to survive what was before them
and so smiled at human ingenuity before returning to a squeaking
Beb.

Peering over
the side of the building, she saw the Pixie had not defended
himself because he had hold of his young Oric friend who was
looking anything but cheerful. Zyre reached down and helped Beb
pull the Oric back onto the ground where he went running back into
the fray, but before she could speak to the Pixie he followed
another who had been tossed over the edge. With the gin bottle
firmly in his grip and the Oric in another the drunken rescuer gave
a grin that suggested his neurosis had been replaced with the
unexpected pleasure of enjoying a spot of flying Orics.

A swipe nearby
had her turn expecting to face a Raider, but instead a dark being
addressed the dead would-be assailant at her feet, “Not on this
world.”

Her gaze met
the dark presence of the demon she told to stay behind and her lips
broke into the warmth of a wide smile. He was there and she was
relieved because even if she refused to admit it to herself—she
knew they needed his strength. She couldn’t help her reaction and
her eyes cleared into emerald green as she greeted Vryn
Dhaigre.

“Hey hey, be
having fun?”

The Elf at
War

The demonic
universe had spent many centuries in disarray struggling against
their harsh environment while conspiring against imaginary
villains. It took the firm hand of the Empire to unite these unruly
creatures and once bound together it was only then they enjoyed any
type of prosperity. The magical world lived in harmony with their
environment and they didn’t bother with the drama of worlds
external to their own. While theirs was a world of peace it wasn’t
one of unity of spirit, being more a lack of cohesive action by the
separate sections of discord. Pixies didn’t trouble Gnomes because
they were coping with other Pixies, the same with Elves or Fairies,
and no one cared about the Nefarious Ones—the Goblins. The attack
of demons on their world didn’t fracture them apart as hoped, but
instead strengthened the link to each other within their world. The
rude invasion gave them the strength to depose the would-be
conquerors with a bloodthirsty brutality any demon would be proud
to own.

To the demon
observing this unstructured, chaotic world, it appeared as an
irresistible opportunity for increasing wealth and power. This was
one of many errors made by the avaricious demon for while one type
of magical being didn’t seem much of a challenge in battle; their
united world was as formidable and impressive as any demon force.
Demons had the mistaken belief that pretty meant ineffective and
weak, lack of action meant incapacity, and harmony with nature
meant lack of brutality. The magical creature when provoked was as
happy to tie your shoelaces together as to disembowel you. It took
many a bloody skirmish and universal spell, but finally the demons
got the message—to leave the world to its own devices.

Despite magical
success in expelling the attackers they retained their basic
character flaws and it was peace that revealed the full extent of
their failings. Realising there was continued strength in unity the
magical world started to appoint Elders to sort out the wreck they
called home. No longer plagued by attack the citizens had more time
for mischief and unfortunately, for those who encountered one—an
unoccupied magical creature was invariably up to no good. Those who
attacked magical beings usually did so because they had difficulty
reconciling the beauty of creatures that looked more ornamental
than possessed of the abilities of a serious warrior. The magical
realm used this advantage and proceeded to expose beings capable of
atrocities as vicious as demon or creative as the human. It was
their most agreeable and friendly of beings that those of the
Reveal learned to avoid angering for while her smile was ruby
bright—her soul danced between retribution and destruction.

That their
enemies would focus on the magical creature of a most intimidating
presence didn’t escape the clever Elders and so the grumpy Gnome,
with a disposition suggesting a violence that wasn’t always
apparent, guarded the door to the Reveal. This distraction
surprised an enemy who discovered they should have minded the
mercurial Pixie who would cut out their heart before they realised
their presence, or the fragile Fairy that dropped down from trees
to pluck out their eyes. Demons soon realised though they appeared
as a ragtag group, an angry magical world was a very formidable
opponent. That didn’t mean a magical being on their own was an easy
target for their heritage alone meant they enjoyed several
recourses when attacked. Though the magical shared certain defences
and attributes, some still remained a unique property of each
being.

The Pixie was
impossible to catch for their mercurial swiftness had them gone
before an aggressor blinked. The Fairy, in tune with water,
floating on the air could soar from above or rise from underneath.
The Goblin hid in the crevices of a structure, striking like a
spider capturing prey. Gnomes would bury themselves deep into the
earth, to spring up when least expected. However it was the Elf,
the traveller between worlds, that actively employed her magical
attributes the most for she was the one whose mischief often
instigated the problem in the first place.

The dissolve
was usually the first response of an Elf under threat—there one
minute and gone the next—it was the one magical escape that was
hers alone. She could disintegrate to step through walls, escape
bonds, or remove herself from imminent harm. An Elf using the Vesi
to protect another couldn’t dissolve very far and still protect
completely, so if attacked the Elf had the recourse of the Salvae.
The range of power from this blast could be controlled from
decimating a large group, to breaking a single object, down to
fireworks snapping from fingertips. The Salvae, her deadly retort,
was the only power of hers constrained by the Seal of Sere. If she
wished to engage but not harm then Elves could use their magic to
advantage by invoking the Eidex, which allowed her to mimic the
fighting skills of her opponent. Usually the adversary would grow
weary at a never ending skirmish without victory in sight and give
up, leaving the Elf to go about her merry way unimpeded.

Those foolish
enough to engage an Elf in battle found themselves facing a
creature with many resources available for defence. To anger an Elf
was to find yourself facing an opponent as deadly as she was
beautiful for though an Elf spent an eternity pretending not to
care when she did it usually had deadly results. The demon world
learned with much regret to tread softly because fairy tales were
not always good magic.