The shop wasn't very large. The air was thick with the pleasant scent of mixed herbs. Looking around, I sniffed cautiously.
Along the wall farthest from the entrance ran a fairly wide counter, separating customers from the vendors. The latter consisted of an elf with straight platinum hair and a very young, lively girl. Both were dressed in simple, high-necked dresses in various shades of green.
A tall man stood before them, wearing light, blued armor adorned with intricate carvings. I noticed a two-handed sword slung across his back and another hand-and-a-half sword at his waist. A heavy, rich cloak trimmed with fox fur covered his back. When he glanced back at me, I noted the keen gaze of a seasoned soldier, his short, blond beard, and his breastplate. A knight?
Blued armor... Maybe one of the detachment that overtook us on the road?
The older elf said tiredly to the girl:
- Liel, bring him what he wants... - she nodded and dived into the utility room.
Suddenly her voice sounded familiar, and I took a closer look at the older elf's face. A stirring of memory brought back a memory of one of my master's students. A very similar look. I always recognized faces. I even remembered her name: Elmayr, 'late-gift.' They said she was conceived in mid-autumn. And so, appropriately, she was born exactly a year later, at the same time...
I carefully felt her magical gift. It was quite large. Of course, it was smaller than mine, and I only sensed Life mana in it.
I wonder what she's doing here? Why isn't she teaching in the Great Forest?
The girl appeared, brought what he asked for, and carefully placed it on the counter in front of the knight. It turned out to be five vials of "last chance" and two larger bottles of baked clay.
The knight held the flasks up to the light and pulled the cork from the bottle. The pleasant, fruity scent of wild peach juice immediately filled the room. It's used to desalinate water, and it's also simply a very, very tasty and sweet thing.
Hmm, yeah - a two-thousand-year-old elf selling sweets and potions...
Just don't tell me that things in the Great Forest have become so bad that even those who should be walking around and looking at everyone else like shit are fleeing from there.
On the other hand, if they have already banned forging 'ate-kael', then I won't be surprised by anything.
What was the saying? A civil war for an empty throne?
Has an exodus of refugees and everyone else who doesn't want to be involved in what's going to happen really begun?
And then there's that sorceress in the apartment building...
One is a coincidence, two is thought-provoking...
Well, well...
Maybe I'll just forget it? I can do without the poison. What if the baron has something?
I pulled my hood down and was about to leave when the customer paid for his purchases and, quickly stuffing them into a pouch on his belt, headed for the exit.
After giving me a careful glance, he left the store.
I didn't want to follow him out of the store - the knight might notice me.
The elf looked at me and asked:
- Did you want something?
Oh well, whatever...
I nodded slightly and said:
- A good arrow poison or just a good glass jar with a brush for collecting and applying.
She froze tensely:
- Poisons? Well, there are some, of course. Why do you need them?
I shrug slightly:
"It seems like a war is approaching this kingdom." Elmayr narrowed her eyes tensely, looking under my hood, and I said in a more ingratiating voice: "Do you have 'Breath of Death'?"
She nodded slowly and glanced sideways at the girl.
- Yes. Old stock. Haven't made this in a while.
A shudder of anticipation welled up within me. The thing was, the 'Breath of Death' only grew stronger over time, as the decaying organic matter generated a couple of other, rather potent, accompanying poisons. The key to this was a sealed container and the absence of light.
I smiled:
- How much will you pay for it?
- Five gold coins. For the bottle.
- Four bubbles - will that be enough?
She nodded:
- I'll bring it now. - She looked at the girl: - Liel, keep an eye here.
Having said this, the elf started to walk into the passage, but paused there and looked at me again. Immediately after, she left the room.
While I waited, I began to examine the merchandise displayed on the narrow shelves on the wall behind the counter. Almost immediately, my gaze fell on several mithril anchor chains, each differing only in length.
Looking at the girl, I said:
- Liel, I need a chain. How much for the longest one?
She smiled sweetly and replied:
- Five gold.
I quickly counted out the coins and the girl handed me my purchase.
Turning away so she can't see what I'm doing, I take my signet ring and signet ring out of my pocket and, undoing the intricate clasp, thread my rings onto the chain. Then I fasten it around my neck and, hearing footsteps approaching, tuck the chain under my jacket.
Elfica entered the room at the same time as I turned back again.
In her hands, she held four pot-bellied glass jars with wide mouths, sealed with steel screw-on lids. Furthermore, to seal the joint between the metal and glass, she had generously smeared it with clear tree resin. Judging by the color, I'd say it was wild cherry.
The elf glanced at us warily and placed the jars one by one on the counter in front of me.
I counted out the coins and carefully hid the jars of poison in my pocket.
Silently turning away, I headed for the exit, but just as I was about to leave, the elf's question caught up with me. Her voice betrayed tension.
- Tell me, have we met before?
Without turning around, I said:
- Well, I remember you, Elmayr. And I'm glad you're still alive.
As I was leaving the shop, I glanced back and saw a deathly pale elf, pressed against the wall in horror.
The closing door hid this picture from my view.
Oh, my gods... I didn't think Elmair would recognize me. And I certainly didn't expect him to be scared. Although... after all the bloodshed of the Twilight War...
I took the reins from the hands of a boy who looked at me almost obsequiously and slowly walked through the city streets towards the city castle, which towered above the rooftops.
As I left the Elven Quarter, I noticed that there were almost no elves in the crowd beyond its boundaries. The streets began to twist and turn, apparently to confuse the enemy.
Around one of the turns I discovered a small crowd: the street was completely blocked by a cordon of soldiers.
Moving on, I noticed a squad of guards quickly pass by me, who had set up another cordon behind me at the nearest intersection.
Ahead, behind the soldiers, a dozen horsemen were visible, the baron standing out in his eerie armor, horned helmet, and rich blue cloak that fell almost below his stirrups. Next to him, the mage's white cloak stood out brightly. If I'm not mistaken in human classifications, white symbolizes the Element of Air. In ours, it's the same. However, elemental attributes in magical gifts are rare among us, and I'm currently the exception to the rule.
This mage is obviously either one of the Baron's Archmage's apprentices, or the Baron himself. His face isn't visible from my perspective. I carefully felt his magical gift. Hm. Quite powerful for a human. Air, a bit of Fire and Light. Many times more powerful than the earth mages I saw in the forest. The Archmage himself? Or his powerful apprentice?
Sensing something, the mage turned in my direction, and I saw his clean-shaven chin and eyes glowing with inner strength. His gaze darted warily through the crowd, then he returned to watching the house.
Not bad. But not great either. An experienced fighter would have found me, and after 'feeling me out,' he would have kept a close eye on me, never letting me out of his sight. And that's the bare minimum, if he were incredibly self-assured. Oh well...
Besides this mage, there were four horsemen in dark green cloaks, their hoods pulled down to the middle of their faces. They held longbows in their hands, warily, with arrows nocked to the strings, each bearing a long, wavy tip. I sensed the diluted elven blood in all four of them. Half-breeds?
What interesting tips. I don't recall any like that here. Maybe something new? But I'm a little doubtful about the functionality. A cut wound? Yeah, sure, it would work. But why? You just coat the tip with poison and that's it. The same old jagged tips or regular leaf-shaped ones...
The rest of the horsemen were ordinary men-at-arms on horses, with large rectangular shields fastened to the saddles on the left side.
It's good that the baron is here. I'll talk to him about the forge.
There was whispering in the crowd. I heard various things.
A fat man in a greasy apron over his clothes says:
'...connected with bandits who staged a fight with soldiers at night...'
Some woman whispers to her friend:
'...and I'm telling you - my nephew was there and says that the elves...'
Some guy grumbles gloomily to his friend:
"...he said that the baron's son, this Wallin—well, you knew him—was killed last night. His father will cut everyone involved down a notch. I'm telling you exactly..."
I didn't really feel like pushing my way through the crowd, so I jumped on my horse. From here, I could see that soldiers had cordoned off one of the wealthy houses, its doors knocked down.
I pressed lightly with my leg and the horse, demonstrating good training, carried me at a walk towards the soldiers.
As I approached, one of the soldiers raised his gloved hand and, placing it on the horse's muzzle, said loudly:
- Stoo-oop! Can't you see, elf, that we can't go yet? There's no way through!
The baron and the magician turned to me warily and I, bowing slightly to them, said:
"I need to talk to Baron Tour," I say, lifting my hood to allow him to see his face.
The soldier turned questioningly to the baron, who boomed loudly:
- Missed.
Under the guards' wary gaze, I drove closer and said:
- Do you work at the address Selon provided?
Tur grabbed his helmet by the horn with his left hand and removed it from his head. His face contorted with rage for a second. He regained his composure and, taking a deep breath, glanced sideways at me.
- Yes...
I smiled at the mage, who was intently examining me not only with his gaze but also testing my magical gift. I noticed his eyes widen at this.
Then one of the soldiers ran out of the house and shouted:
- They've barricaded themselves on the first floor! We can't break down the door.
The baron's face eloquently distorted with rage and he yelled:
- How can it not work? Tear down the walls! Damn it!
The soldier darted back in fear at his roar.
I glanced sideways at the baron and yawned:
- Maybe I should go?
The tour turned to me in surprise:
- You've already helped a lot.
I jumped off my horse and said:
- It's not difficult for me...
The house was large. The tall, carved double doors had been torn from their frames and dumped inside.
The floor is made of polished granite slabs. The wide staircase to the second floor is also lined with the same stone. Broken glass and numerous dirty boot prints litter the floor.
A large crystal(?) chandelier hangs from the ceiling...
- Oh, what will happen... - a female voice reached me.
Turning my head toward the sound, I saw that the servants had been herded into a large living room to my left. A plump cook, two pairs of young maids, and an elderly butler. Five grim-looking soldiers with short swords in their hands watched over them all.
From the right I heard the ringing sound of metal hitting stone.
"The walls are also protected by magic!" someone's shout reached me.
Immediately after this another blow followed, and then another.
I turned down the corridor and found myself in front of a group of soldiers standing next to a massive iron-bound door.
A huge, muscular man, a large hammer in his hands, slammed it into the stonework right next to where the top hinge should have been. The impact quickly sent a wave of dwarven runes flashing and fading across the wall.
The man said:
- What a story! We need to call a mage! Without him, we won't get through even in a month!
I sighed and said loudly:
"I'm going to knock the door down now." The man with the hammer turned to look at me along with the other soldiers. I continue: "After that, you go in. Don't push in the hallway. Assign roles now."
- And who are you?
I shrug slightly:
- Ilrruil. I'm helping Baron Tur. Ready?
The man with the hammer shrugged and stepped aside. The rest of the soldiers pressed themselves against the walls, clearing the way for me to the door.
Penetrating such defenses without preparation using sheer force alone is difficult because it requires exerting greater force than was used to create it. This can be very problematic, as the actual mana required would likely exceed the amount invested by the unknown mage(s), possibly over several days or even weeks.
But I don't think it's that serious here.
I drew my right sword from its sheath and approached the door. Reversing the grip, I channeled Light mana into the blade. The sword glowed with a brilliant white light. Without looking at it, I swung and plunged the blade straight into the center of the door.
The sword sank into the wood like butter. The runes on the door and wall flared briefly and exhausted their charge. Then, brightly glowing cracks erupted from my blade, and the next second, the debris from the door and wall was thrown inward. Heavy dust swirled in the gap.
I belatedly cut off the flow of mana into the blade and stepped back, waving my left hand in front of me:
- Forward!
The soldiers, one after another, began to dive into the breach.
Of course, I was supposed to lead them, but why take such a risk? I'm not wearing any serious armor or anything like that. I don't fancy getting hit in the chest with a crossbow bolt.
Looking at the quickly cooling, yellow-hot blade, I also thought that I might have to reforge it too.
Well, there are still no sounds of fighting. I peer into the room. The dust has almost settled, revealing a large storage room filled with sacks of grain.
"Nobody..." the man with the hammer said gloomily.
I can see that myself. But why defend this room so much?
The man thought the same thing and began hammering the floor. In one spot, the sound was duller. However, the man didn't hear it and moved on.
I said:
- Stop. Right here.
He glanced at me sideways and made a few gestures to the soldiers. They quickly gathered up a bunch of rags and swept the dust from the indicated spot. Beneath it was a clearly visible rectangular stone hatch, about two steps wide by one. I scanned the surroundings—there had to be a lever somewhere around here...
Unfortunately, nothing worthwhile caught my eye, and there was no point in probing the walls of time: the owners had clearly left at this pace, and the chances of catching them were melting away with every heartbeat.
I removed my cloak and carefully placed it on a sack of wheat. Taking a single grain, I fed it Life mana, and it immediately sprouted thick roots that began pouring from my fingers like water. Obeying my will, they crawled into the cracks in the floor and enveloped the hatch from all sides. A second later, with a terrible creaking and cracking sound, the plant tore not only the hatch from the floor but also lifted the adjacent stone slabs. Beneath it all, a narrow stone staircase was revealed, leading steeply downward.
Looking at the bush frozen in anticipation of an order, I interrupted the magic and said:
"Keep an eye on my cloak, make sure nothing gets stolen. It contains elven contact poison. If anything happens, death will be very painful, and I have no antidote. Tell the Baron I'm going on a reconnaissance mission."
With these words, I dived into the darkness.
When my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I realized I was in a wide tunnel, lined with stone so thick you couldn't even fit a knife blade into the cracks. Dirty, stinking water flowed along the bottom of the tunnel. Along the walls ran a sort of narrow sidewalk, rising a good half meter above the water's surface. The stench was so bad I wanted to puke. Judging by this, I was in a sewer or a drain.
Running my fingers near my face, I cast a weak spell that freshened the air I inhaled and cleansed it of any toxic gases or vapors. The downside was that I now completely lost my sense of smell. I hoped it wouldn't be too serious.
I looked left, then right. There had been no living creatures here for a long time, and I easily spotted a strange, faintly glowing trail hanging in the air. It clearly pointed the way to the right, further down the tunnel.
Smiling in anticipation, I ran easily along the trail.
The trail was quickly getting thicker. I was clearly catching up...
I take out the second sword and, grabbing it with a reverse grip, also hide it behind my back.
Suddenly, I begin to sense elves ahead of me. The sensation is slightly different than usual. I begin to move much more quietly and carefully.
The tunnel bends and from around the corner I see how the wall is illuminated for a second by a bright flame.
I heard the sound of footsteps and muffled curses. Running to the corner, I cautiously peered around it and saw that the tunnel had turned at a right angle just twenty paces away. A bright light illuminated the wall, and against it, I spotted two slender figures looking in my direction.
A second and I'm hiding around the corner.
"It's not far from here..." someone's words are heard and someone cautiously added: "What's there?"
I came around the corner. The figures stood with their narrow swords already drawn.
Suddenly the left elf whispered quietly in Dark Elven:
- Go faster. We'll catch up with you.
Really? Dark elves! And who told me about their problems in the Deep? Despite the gloom, I begin to notice details of their clothing, weapons, and armor.
Their faces are covered with black, featureless masks, devoid of any markings or decorations. This denotes a very low status in their society. I don't see a House sign. It's usually specially highlighted with phosphorescent compounds, to somehow distinguish friend from foe in the pitch darkness.
The weapons of ordinary swordsmen are twin swords, a set of daggers, and small crossbows on their right wrists.
All the weapons and equipment are clearly better than mine.
The second one said a little louder, addressing me:
- This road will lead you only to the abode of Atesh, bright one.
I chuckle:
- Be careful that she doesn't lead you into her gardens, dark brothers...
In order to neutralize the numerical advantage and the vile weapons, it will be necessary to use magic to a wide extent.
And one more thing.
Judging by the trail, that's not all of the guards. Some stayed with the owner of that estate.
The dark one on the right jumped over the stream and found himself on the other side of the tunnel. Immediately after that, they both came toward me.
Dark elves are incredibly brutal swordsmen. A normal light elf wouldn't have stood a chance against two of them. But I lived through the Twilight War from start to finish. And during that nightmare, anything could happen. Two, three, four against one—that's common. Honor? Ha! Personally, in its place, something heavy and gloomy grew. Usually, I called it 'necessity.' But there were many other names for it...
I quickly took a couple of deep breaths and stepped forward as well.
We suddenly accelerated and our swords clashed, creating bright sparks. A series of very, very fast strikes – he testing my defense. I testing his attack, while simultaneously remembering what it was like to fight with swords.
He's wary, obviously surprised his attack hasn't landed. His ally runs around us on the other side of the stream and leaps right behind me. At the same time, my immediate opponent connects my blades with vicious blows. However, I see through their plan right from the start, and just as the second swordsman's feet are already touching the stone behind me, I channel a bit of Light mana into my blades.
A brilliant flash blinds my immediate opponent, and he's simply unable to block a powerful kick to his stomach. The blow sends him flying back ten paces and into the murky water. The recoil pushes me backwards, right into the swordsman who had leaped toward me, and due to the shorter distance and the blindness, he simply misses me with his sword. Blocking a situational blow to the side, I threw my left sword on the return stroke at the dark elf who had emerged from the water and was raising his hand with a cocked crossbow. The throw was precise and powerful, and though he tried to dodge, he only managed to move his heart out of the way of the flying blade, which pierced him below his left shoulder, eliciting a short cry. The momentum of the sword spun him around and threw him facedown.
The Dark One behind me tried to gain some distance, simultaneously thrusting his right sword through my body. I had to block this blow again. With my free left hand, I grabbed his arm and, without letting go, I closed the distance myself, simultaneously twisting my limb and throwing it. Just as his feet were lifted off the ground, the swordsman tried to reach me again with his other blade, but that blow was delivered almost blindly, and I easily deflected it.
When the throw flattened the dark one against the stone, I continued moving, breaking the bone with a loud crunch. Simultaneously, I deflected his sword with my own and drove the blade into his right shoulder joint. The dark one screamed in pain and tried to push me away with a kick, but I got there first, and from my left index finger, still holding his broken limb, a long wooden spike instantly sprouted, piercing his left eye.
The scream stopped. The Dark One began to twitch convulsively.
Releasing the limb, I snapped off the wooden spike at the very tip of my finger with a sharp movement and shook my hand, sending a restorative wave of healing spell through my hand. Situational 'Black Arrow' is a nasty spell with a residual effect on the caster.
I look up at the wounded man. He's lying there, raising his hand with a cocked crossbow. I sharply release raw Light mana into the surrounding area and almost instantly weave the 'Impulse' spell. A brief, brilliant flash follows. However, the light not only blinds—it also repels.
The corpse beneath my feet is smashed into the floor with a sharp crunch. The dark elf aiming at me is thrown further down the tunnel, thrown over the stream, and slammed against the wall. His body falls like a broken doll. Before it even touched the floor, it was pinned to the wall by a meter-long "black arrow."
I listen not only to the sounds, but also to my own sensations. One dark elf quickly leaves. I sit down next to the corpse at my feet. A pool of blood quickly spreads beneath it. Broken bones have torn flesh.
I begin to quickly unfasten the numerous straps and pull off his clothes.
As I quickly changed into the dark one's blood-soaked gear, I didn't feel any disgust at all.
Sometimes I hate myself...
And sometimes...I love it.
I generously smear fresh blood over my face, hair, neck, hands, ears... By the way. Dark Ones have longer ears. And this one in particular has two simple gold hoop earrings in his right ear. Cutting both off in one motion, I reattach them to the back of my own and slightly alter the flesh pattern: nothing special, and everything will be corrected with the first use of powerful general healing spells. The alien flesh will fall off.
The final touch. I strap the crossbow to my right hand and, loading it with a short steel arrow, carefully cock it. Incidentally, the arrow is coated with poison. Unfortunately, I can't determine what kind: the color is invisible in the dark, and I have no sense of smell due to the spell I cast. But most likely, it's one of the paralyzing ones. If this were the Dark Elf elite, I'd call it 'Kakhet,' which roughly translates as 'Frozen (at sight)'. It's quite nasty: it tenses every muscle in the victim. Yes, that's right, every muscle. Because of this, it's sometimes used in bed for a steel-hard erection. In this case, it's used by Dark Elf priestesses, and they're not bothered by the intense, escalating pain their lovers experience.
But ordinary soldiers can have anything on their arrows...
Oh... Infiltration...
It excites me so much. My heart starts beating faster.
I put on the mask and secure it to my face with special straps. Under the mask, my lips stretch into a bloodthirsty, anticipatory smile.
I take a second to check the presence of various small items and whether the scabbards with the swords are properly fastened. Immediately after that, I break into a run, continuing the pursuit.
*****
Haalen and Esvi rode through the cordon and approached the baron.
"Sir..." the half-breed bowed, sitting in the saddle.
Tour nodded slowly, looking at him and asked:
- Did you talk to your father?
"He's not in town. I was told he's been summoned to the Great Forest for consultations." Haalen sighed with concern.
The tour played with its mandibles:
"I see." The half-breed began to look around with interest, and his gaze almost immediately fell on two familiar horses standing slightly to the side. The Baron forestalled his question and, looking thoughtfully at the broken doors, said, "He's here. He just arrived and immediately climbed in there..."
The next second, a bright light briefly flashed from inside the building, and the sound of a powerful blow came from there.
The half-breed glanced worriedly at Archmage Kessel and saw him nervously lick his lips, staring somewhere through the wall. Haalen's keen ears caught his quiet whisper:
- What power...
The baron turned to him and asked:
- What do you see?
The Archmage spoke in a distant, quiet voice:
"His magical gift is incredible. I've never even heard of anything like it... I sense all the Elements and all the Powers... And in such quantity?" He swallowed loudly. "It's overwhelming."
"Is he stronger than the Archmage?" the knight asked.
"Definitely yes. And by a lot. And considering the versatility of the gift..." The mage finally tore his gaze away from the wall and looked first at the baron, then at Haalen: "Is this the same elf you encountered in the forest?"
The Baron looked at the soldiers surrounding him (some of whom clearly pricked up their ears) and nodded.
One of the soldiers ran out of the house. Finding himself next to the baron, he said:
"They left through a secret passage. The elf opened it and told me to tell you he was going on a reconnaissance mission..."
Tour swore foully and commanded:
- Follow me there! - He looked back at Haalen: - You too...
Here the earth shook briefly.
*****
During the Twilight War, the tactic of infiltrating enemy forces was precisely what caused the Dark Ones to be defeated and pinned to their capital.
The thing was, our predisposition to the Life Force allowed us to play with our bodies to a very wide extent. Our mages could even copy the design and manifestation of a magical gift. But this required a living captive and a fairly prolonged exposure, which fully fell under the definition of a ritual.
Now I didn't have time for all this 'dancing with a tambourine', as I contemptuously called ritualism.
However, the impact of these attacks was terrifying enough that the dark ones had to urgently develop a series of countermeasures. They developed a system of passwords and surveys, and much more, for soldiers returning from missions.
In fact, the dark forces eventually adapted somewhat to these sabotage operations, and as a result, the infiltration itself was reduced to primitive contact with enemy patrols and sabotage and reconnaissance groups. There, it continued to work perfectly.
Sometimes we even did funny things. One of them was like this:
The 'wounded priestess' walked toward the dark ones' base and, just two or three dozen steps short of them, collapsed 'from loss of blood.' From there, everything depended on professionalism and artistry.
I remember the face of Selael, the former actress of the traveling theater. How she could play out suffering and torment! Yeah, right... She always managed to lure the dark ones away from their posts. They were either coming to help or to finish them off, and then we stepped in. Incidentally, she died not during such a performance, but in the final days of the siege of Alehetorn, foolishly running into an enemy spell cast practically right in front of me.
I quickly caught up with the group. There were only two of them. Keeping as far away as possible, I scanned them both with my eyes.
The man turned out to be a plump, richly dressed fat man with numerous gold rings on his sausage-like fingers. The torch in his hands was visibly shaking.
But it wasn't him that caught my attention.
Behind him, walking backwards and practically in reverse, was a dark elf. Her slender figure was accentuated by a tight, full-body leather suit that fit like a glove. Her face was covered with the same black mask as the two who had tried to kill me, but on the left side of it was a vertical inscription. I strained my eyes and thought I read "junior follower." Mage... I could sense her gift, but she would have sensed it...
Her left hand held a sword, and her right hand hovered faintly, a heavy mist of Dark Mana. A spell in progress. I listened to myself. Judging by the disturbance in the magical background, it was something low-level. But I also sensed a weak magical defense.
I somehow didn't take into account that there might be a mage with the dark ones. If she probes me, I'll have to attack immediately, without waiting for her reaction.
Right now, I can kill them so they won't even understand where the damned Hound of Atesh came from. But I need to take them both alive... And find out what the dark ones have forgotten here and now. In the midst of the nascent war.
Shooting the elf with a crossbow isn't an option. I might miss, and even her magical protection might protect her from the shot...
My train of thought was interrupted by the cry of the fat man who had stopped:
- They've arrived... Somewhere around here. Ah! There!
He took a dagger out of a small, decorated sheath and began to pick at the wall.
What a demon! There's no time to think. We need to get started.
Ready to attack at any moment, I stepped into the light and quickly walked towards them.
The priestess saw me and relaxed a little.
I close my eyes and lower my head slightly: dark elves almost always have black irises, and my bright blue one will attract attention.
The priestess glanced at me and, clearly noticing the blood, narrowed her eyes and asked:
- Irnil, what happened and where is Etiru?
Without stopping, I shake my head.
Step, one more.
The elf quietly asks:
- Who was it?
I'm almost there.
Meanwhile, the fat man had cleared something and pressed one of his rings into it. There was a hum in the wall, and a narrow stone slab slowly rose. He immediately ran in and urged us on:
- Let's go, let's go...
I patiently waited for her to be distracted enough to look at the opening, and then I immediately attacked.
Long wooden spikes erupted from the fingers of my left hand, easily piercing the sorceress's defenses and pinning her to the wall by her arms and legs. The prepared spell tore from the dark elf's hand, screaming in pain, and slammed into the floor like a black clot, carving a sizable hole in it within a second.
I fired my crossbow at the fat man who emerged from the opening, aiming for his thick leg. The heavy arrow pierced the fabric and sank into the flesh, its tips two handbreadths above the knee. The projectile's momentum knocked the man's limb down, and he screamed and fell to all fours.
Immediately after that, I snapped off the 'black arrows' with a sharp movement and struck the elf hard in the solar plexus with my fist, and then, immediately after she doubled over in a violent spasm, I added a punch to the side of her cheekbone. The mask was ripped from her face and thrown aside.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice that the fat man, taking advantage of the fact that I was busy, unexpectedly quickly crawled back into the doorway.
I lifted the limply hanging head of the crucified elf by her thick black hair and made sure that she had lost consciousness.
Something hummed in the wall nearby, and the door began to close. Cursing briefly to myself, I released the elf and turned to magic again.
Life is multifaceted and in many ways overlaps with its sister, Death. Certain techniques are not recommended for frequent use, as they are reflected in the very nature of the mage. It is better to use Life magic through a simulacrum—a pine cone, a seed, moss, or even a leaf or branch. Using this Power in this way, directly changing one's blood and skin into what is needed in a specific situation, was permitted only in extreme cases.
These weren't even spells, but intuitive techniques for harnessing the Power of Life, and were called "black." After all, black is the color of hopelessness, predestination... and only then—sadness.
'Black Arrows', 'Black Roots', 'Black Semblance', 'Black Protection'... There are quite a lot of them and they are all potentially very powerful.
But the Twilight War lifted almost all prohibitions. What's more, even light elves practicing necromancy and maleficence began to appear in the army! It was both funny and terrifying.
During that terrible conflict, the border between our peoples became blurred as never before.
As I extended my arms toward the descending slab, wood began to pour out of my palms, immediately forming thick roots. They grabbed the slab and stopped its movement.
The hum became shrill and was interrupted by a dull bang.
The roots grabbed the door tighter and twisted it out of its grooves, immediately pressing it against the ceiling.
Jerking my palms to the sides, I broke off the wood right at the skin and, taking another look at the limp body nailed to the wall, rushed after the fat man.