Darkened Light

Chapter 9

I'm not a vengeful god, but as long as I get my revenge on this occasion, I'll be a happy elf.

Why, you ask?

The people I love most have suffered and suffer still because I was tricked. We all have our limits, right?

***

CHAPTER 9

Doran

Doran woke to the singing of birds and the clattering of plates in the next room. Time he got out of this place.

Perhaps he'd return to Dìrlein. Or maybe Kwenjande. The women and men were beautiful that far south, and he'd get better prices for everything he'd found in the ruins. He could drop by Ash on the way, if the idiot hadn't got himself killed yet. It'd be nice to see a friendly face for a change.

"I'm glad to see you're awake, dear. Can you talk?"

The elven woman who had questioned him before walked over and sat on the bed beside him.

"I—" Doran coughed, but it was more from the dryness in his throat than from pain. Whatever magic she'd worked on him had done its job frighteningly well. "Yes. Thank you."

She smiled, making her appear younger still. He hadn't met many elves but knew they aged differently to humans. Her smile retained all the youth her body had lost.

"Good. What's your name, young man?"

Doran frowned. He hated to be called young man. He wasn't a child. Ancients, he'd been growing a beard just to look older.

"Doran."

"And why were you brought to my small village in the back of a cart, unconscious and poisoned?"

It was a fair question. "I was exploring the forests to the north when a demon attacked me." It sounded outright ridiculous, but the woman didn't laugh and her smile was gone. She took him seriously. Perhaps this kind of thing was normal here.

"And what were you doing in the Verdaan forest? There's nothing there, only ruins and memories."

He knew that now, but he still hoped the relics he'd found would prove them both wrong. "It wasn't my plan, but the villagers told me there was treasure in the forest."

"And they didn't mention the dryads, I take it?" The way she said dryads—with a smile on her lips and a chuckle in her voice—annoyed him. They had nearly killed him; he failed to see the fun in that.

"What are they?"

A shadow fell over her bright eyes. "They worship demons. They must have hoped that by sending you into the forest, they'd appease their false Gods and gain their favour."

"I meant the demons that poisoned me."

The elf looked tired—so tired, in fact, that she finally looked her age.

"Some of them were us once. A long time ago—" She sighed. "It doesn't matter now. What does matter is what you brought here with you."

"I don't know who he is. I ran into him when I fled the forest." The hairs on his arms lifted. He'd seen some dark things since he'd started travelling—half of them in Vaska and some of them in Z'rasie—but sacrificing adolescents topped it all. Not even his own people desired blood that much, and Ceidir lived for the hunt.

"He was injured when you arrived."

"Chanting cultists were cutting him up when I ran into him."

"I see. And what were you planning on doing, young Doran?"

Find someone interested in taking him off my hands when I reach Alt Võina, just like the relics. "I was going to take him to Alt Võina. He deserves better."