We traveled fast. My legs were short, yet I managed to move at this human's speed. I think that was his race. His facial features resembled them, but they were very hardened—as if the capacity to smile had never been experienced. His armor intrigued me. It did not seem to be metal, yet I knew it could resist more damage than it appeared. The leather must be from some animal extinct in these times. Only expert tanners could have worked such a piece. Yet what drew attention was not the armor, nor a magical field as large as most city mages'. It was the sacred silver—the mithril his sword was made of. Such a precious metal I had never seen. All legends among smiths were based on being able to forge something with such materials. As a smith, I could not see a single notch on that weapon. I was sure it had been wielded many times—its hilt showed it. Truth be told, for a human, he looked like some deity—the deity of vengeance, perhaps.
We did not stop to rest. The man seemed to fly. The first kilometers, I felt I would die. But that was what enhancement magic was for. I only needed to place reinforcement on my joints, a little wind magic on my feet, and periodic recovery magic. With that, whenever I tired, it supplied new strength. I was sure he used something similar. His aura seemed to weaken at times—proof he used magic to maintain such a frenetic pace. The journey by horse was two days. We would finish it in less than one.
From afar, I could admire the new forest. I had not asked anything. It was not my place to find out what was happening to him. He wanted to return quickly—fine. I wanted to eliminate wolves. I thought we were both in the same condition.
"Indeed, I must return. The wolves await you. Don't worry—they are as hungry for money as you are for vengeance. I fear those who made your life so difficult are still in the cities. After this, perhaps you will want to visit them."
The words were spoken in a melodic voice—tired, yes, but I could tell it was not a human's voice. No human had such silky tones. It reminded me of those half-elves rich merchants acquired through magic, so they could boast elven descent. The poor boys never developed—correction, their age and non-genital growth was human, but like elves, until age fifty, their genitals grew, so until that age, you saw them looking for women. A sad case. But I did not think that was his situation. Would he tell me if I asked? Only about two hours remained until arrival. Damn it, I was older than him! I should not be embarrassed. Yet when I asked, it was with a thread of a voice.
"I am different. I am not human. Like you, an injustice was committed against me—attacking the very nature of being human. I have dozens of operations on my body to handle elven magic, and even tattoos for your type of sorcery. It was not elves who kidnapped me. My parents, lacking money and imagination, sold me without much thought. From the moment I arrived at an island inhabited by them, I was trained. At first, I thought it was because I was special. Then for survival. In the end, I could only think they were preparing someone to eliminate humans."
"Before you ask, we are going to try to eliminate the one I love most. It is not for vengeance. It has nothing to do with her being an elf. It is because, like me, she was subjected to many more aberrations than I was. Her mind is unstable, and I fear her soul is on the verge of being consumed by a creature unseen on this continent for millennia."
"I want you to understand: my mission in this world—for as long as I live—is to find a way to kill my beloved before she eliminates life as we know it. Human foolishness, elven foolishness, dwarven foolishness are nothing compared to the massacre that would be the opening of the infernal marks."
Infernal marks! No one alive except elves remembered the battle for the opening of the marks... The historians of my people said no one should have survived that battle. The races as one, with stone weapons in some cases, launched the most brutal attack against the infernal population seeking to enter here. No one agreed on their true nature. As far as I was concerned, they were representatives of some reality where fire, pain, and torture were a way of life—not like here, where they were only used as distractions. All agreed that much of the elves' power was obtained during those battles. There were good reasons to ally with them even so. The entities from those places only sought the total destruction of everything—suffering. In short, hell on earth. Was my vengeance more important than the disappearance of humanity?
When the sun set in the distance, we reached the forest's edge. A ridiculous construction of rotten wood stood out as a target among all the enormous mushrooms that composed this magical place. From inside came discordant songs, the laughter of drunks, and some moans. It was obvious we were in front of a brothel. What the hell did he think we were doing here? As he entered, I had no choice but to follow him. The interior was even more sordid than the exterior, if possible. A couple of tables and some rooms at the back. A counter with bottles of clear liquor that must serve as drink and drain cleaner. I saw several members of the Wolf Clan. Just as I was about to leap at them, a young dwarf woman stood before us.
She asked what I would drink. She had a beautiful dwarven mountain voice—sing-song. Her body was that of someone who worked for a living. Her beard was smooth and small, like young dwarf women's. Her leather skirts were neat. The cotton blouse gave a touch of simplicity and sensuality. My companion asked for water for both of us—something I appreciated. I had been so lost in that dwarf woman that I had forgotten everything around us. With a little embarrassment, I asked what we were doing here.
"We were waiting for her."
She was a woman I would easily recognize—my wife. She came with that worldly walk of a woman who could make beards curl. The only thing I thought was to hug her, ask for forgiveness. She looked very sad. I could not let her be sad, even though I could do nothing to save... What the hell! Who dared defile the image of my dead son? My wife! Damn them!
"Chapatrueno, calm down. She does not do it on purpose. It is her magic, her curse. Lilith, please—could you control it?"
The dwarf woman vanished as if she had never been there. In her place, a pale red woman watched us. She had horns and a demonic appearance. Were it not for her tears—she was crying with grief—I would have been angrier. Still annoyed by her interpretation, I asked what happened.
"I arrived late. They took her."
A cold sweat ran down my back. We had to reach her. Looking at my companion, I understood he not only had the same resolve I did—he was afraid. It was the anguish of someone who knew what was coming and was no longer sure he could stop it.