Reaver’s Song

“You don’t have to take me all the way to this king of yours if you’ve got other things to do,” I offered helpfully. “It looked like you two were doing some heavy skulking back there in the trees and I feel bad taking you away from it. Or you were doing other things…” I turned to the cute girl and shook my head. “No judgement, but you could do so much better. I’m just saying if you need someone to talk to or something you can look me up after my business is- “

“Be silent, Old Blood!” The male elf snapped irritably.

“Ok, dickhead,” I rolled my eyes at him. “I’ve done what you wanted me to. I gave you my weapons-against my better judgement, might I add! I’ve been following you and not touching things I’m not supposed to touch but I draw the line at the telling me to be quiet thing. Besides, I was talking to my new friend err…” it suddenly occurred to me I had no idea what her name was. “What’s your name, sweetums?” The cute one looked surprised for a moment before furiously blushing.

“L-Lyrei,” the girl finally stuttered, her face red through to the tips of her pointed ears. Oh, I thought, you are an adorable one. It was nice to see the earlier hostility melting away like sweet chocolate in a microwave.

“Right!” I said. “Exactly! I was talking to my new friend Lyrei here and don’t need input from your sullen ass, so hush.”

“What time do you get off?” I veered closer to Lyrei who stared at me in surprise. “Well, what time do you get off duty, we can negotiate the other.” I wagged my eyebrows rakishly at her.

“I don’t care who you think you are!” The male erupted at me. “Keep your mouth closed!”

“I hate to break it to you, bitch boy,” I snarled at him. “But you’re the one who’s being loud, and I warned you about telling me to be quiet once before. I won’t warn you again.” Oh my god! I thrilled. I sounded so bad ass right then! If I wasn’t also rather frightened, I would have made myself wet. There was no time to hesitate, though. My honor and Lyrei’s everlasting adoration were clearly at stake, and I had to strike when the iron was hot or whatever the saying was. Time to hit the remote to the garage door and drive it home. “She’s just not into you. Crying about it won’t help.”

“I have had enough of you!” the newly-coronated bitch boy declared angrily, spinning on me, and drawing the sword from its sheath at his waist. So fast even I was surprised, I unshackled Ashvallen’s body and was behind the elf before he could react. I jammed my foot into his knee, bringing him to the ground. The dagger he’d had on the other hip was in my hand, the cold metal pressed against his neck.

“I couldn’t hear above the piteous mewling sounds you were making,” I whispered into his ear. “Now what were you saying, bitch boy?”

“What is the meaning of this?” A voice shouted from further down the trail we’d been walking. I glanced up and rolled my eyes. Another male in intricate armor strode angrily toward us, flanked by two slightly less gaudily armored subordinates.

“Othorion!” Lyrei snapped upright, saluting stiffly. The male at my feet writhed piteously but the sharp edge of his own blade pressed against his neck kept him from thrashing too much. The tall elf with the gaudy armor stopped a short distance away, staring at bitch boy and me.

“He started it,” I flipped the knife into the dirt beside the trail and kicked him to the ground. “My name is- “

“I know who and what you are,” Othorion interrupted coldly. “I also know you were to be brought before the Ri.” His eyes shifted meaningfully to the elf climbing to his feet. In a way I pitied the poor sod. Having your assailant and what appeared to be your commanding officer stare at you as you pick yourself off the dirt had to have seemed like the longest 15 seconds in the history of time itself.

“I-, “bitch boy bowed in humiliation. “I am sorry.”

“I will tend to you after,” Othorion growled, turning his eyes to me once again.

“What?” I narrowed my eyes defensively. “I told you he started it.”

“Come,” Othorion snapped. “The Ri is waiting.” I shrugged my shoulders exaggeratedly and trudged after, throwing Lyrei a surreptitious wink as I passed her.

“You elves are just rude as shit,” I muttered, following after the commander elf, his two lackeys on either side of me. “It’s always ‘do this!’ ‘Do that!’ You could try just not being jackholes about things. Would it kill you to be nice? Would it wound your inner child to say please? You catch more flies with honey than vinegar after all.”

“Do you always talk this much, Old Blood?” Othorion complained, eyes focused on the path between the stretching trees in front of us.

“I’m nervous,” I shot back, eyeing the elves on either side of me. “When I’m nervous, I talk too much. I don’t need you judging me. I’m just here to deliver a package for Countess Thorne to the Ri.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Othorion said with a shrug. “We’ll be at the heart soon enough and you can give your package to the Ri.”

“What’s he like?” I figured it was better to at least have some idea what I was up against should things go sideways. I doubted, however, the surly commander would enlighten me in any way.

“He is the Ri. That is all,” Othorion replied.

“Wow, that’s some next level Zen, right there,” I sighed sarcastically. “I know! You have no idea what I’m talking about.” Othorion shrugged and continued on, nonplussed. I lapsed into a sullen silence and followed him through the trees, now hopelessly lost.

The path began to widen and soon I found myself at the northern edge of an expansive clearing. Stone benches had been carved on either side of the clearing and the ground was covered in soft, verdant grass. I wasn’t sure how many Elves sat in the benches stretching from where I’d entered the clearing to the far edge some half a kilometer away to the south, but I imagined there were probably thousands. They turned to face us as we stopped at the edge of the clearing. Much like the constructs in the passage their eyes locked on me.

“A supplicant comes, begging for an audience with the Ri!” Othorion called loudly. A murmur ran down the line of stone benches, like people doing the wave during a football match, each repeating what Othorion said.

“I didn’t beg for shit,” I muttered. This whole situation was quickly getting on my last damn nerve. I expected I’d meet the guy in a little room somewhere, give him the package and get out. Maybe with like a gift basket or something and a hearty handshake. I hadn’t expected a cult-like K League 1 audience in the middle of a shabby clearing. I sighed and shifted uncomfortably. Othorion’s words had obviously made its way back to the other end of the grove and the reply was coming back via wave.

“The Ri will grace the supplicant with an audience,” the crowd relayed.

“Oh,” I mumbled unenthusiastically. “Goody.”

The walk down the center of the clearing seemed like an eternity. As I passed, the assembled Elves stared at me like in those dreams where you go to school naked. I could feel their eyes on me and the sense of being judged by a group of strangers weighed on me like a physical thing. Suddenly, in the sea of elves on the long stone benches I saw a face I recognized. I blinked and stared at the lean, emaciated man for a long moment before realization kicked in. It had been the elf they were torturing in the dungeon when I first emerged, nude and confused, into this hellish world. He noticed me staring at him and grinned. Much the same as he had in the dungeon, his dark eyes seemed to glow for a moment and his thin lips curled into a nightmarish caricature of a smile. So, I thought, that creepy fucker lived. Something deep inside told me I shouldn’t be glad of that.

There was no time to think further on things and the long slog down what felt increasingly like the green mile continued. Whenever I passed the group of elves staring at me like a bug under a microscope, they grew silent. To say it was disconcerting would be a gross understatement. Truth be told it was wholly unnerving and I hated every second. By the time I reached the end of the path and stopped before the crumbling white stone throne on which the Ri sat, I was more than ready to be done with this entire business. I also decided firmly the countess owed me a raise and at least a boob flash for having to go through all of this shit. Not just some demure side boob action either, I wanted full nip on both.

The Ri himself looked about 5,000 years older than death. His rheumy eyes stared at me from within a face that appeared to be migrating toward his chest in a cascade of wrinkles. His thin white hair fluttered like a wounded pigeon on top of his head and his gnarled hands gripped a shimmering staff held between his robed knees. The Ri sat impassively and, for a long moment I thought he was dead. He moved slightly, changing his position on the heavily damaged chair so that hurdle was overcome, but he was definitely a prime candidate for regular wellness checks.

“You’ve come at long last, Old Blood,” the elf’s voice was a whisper of wind through dry reeds and sent a shiver down my spine.

“I’ve come at the behest of countess Thorne to give you this package,” I replied, producing the package Carrisyn had given me and holding it out to him. I’d practiced the line over and over in my head and I thought it came out pretty well. I wasn’t sure what to do with the rest of my body, though. Did I bow or curtsy or kneel or what? I wasn’t sure what the proper way to address a Ri was, either. Ri? Your highness? Grandfather time? So, in the absence of any real ideas I had simply chosen to do nothing. Originally it felt like the right call, but the way his sunken eyes stared at me began to make me re-think my strategy.

“The Old Blood appears and, miraculously, the humans have deigned us worthy of their attention,” the Ri chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. More a pained gasp than an actual laugh. “Let’s see what the mighty witch has for me.” The Ri opened the package with trembling fingers, ignoring the small box, and instead unfolding the papyrus page bundled with it. His eyes followed the lines written on the page, ancient face betraying no emotion as he read.

I was as uncomfortable as I’d ever been and had to fight down the urge to lash out at the elves sitting unmoving in chairs behind the Ri and on the benches to either side. This was plainly some sort of somber moment for them. They went to the trouble of dusting off their moldy, mostly dead Ri and everything, but the whole situation struck me as more than a little ludicrous.

It was like people waiting for the good parts in a movie, unaware it was a 9-hour documentary on the mating habits of chinchillas. There would, most likely, not be any good bits to see for anyone not into chinchilla sex. My eyes searched the somber faces of the elves behind the Ri. Plainly some sort of council of some description. My gaze settled on an elf nearly as old as the Ri and, if possible, in even worse shape. Yeah, I thought, he’d be into some rodent lovin’.

“Tell me, Old Blood,” the Ri finally set the paper on his lap and turned his eyes back to me. “Does the countess know what you are?” My temper flared and my eyes narrowed.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” I replied, trying, and failing to not clench my teeth angrily. “What am I, exactly? A half breed? An abomination not worthy of life? A walking freakshow? Yeah, I think she picked up on that.”

“Oh ho!” The Ri chuckled again. This time was no less disturbing than the last. “It seems the impure do have feelings after all.” Impure? Oh, I’ll show you impure when I’ve got you out in a cornfield keeping birds away you rickety old sack of crap, I thought angrily. Damn that was a good put down. Unfortunately the moment passed, and I held my tongue. I’d have to keep that one in mind for some other time. Preferably when I wasn’t outnumbered a few hundred to one and considering insulting their head mummy. “But, no, not your unfortunate status. Does she know you’re the last surviving member of the Elven Royal family?”

“Say what now?”