Blurb

 Beyond the scant farmlands of home there is wilderness. Sprawls of uncontained forests, aching expanses of desert, and grasslands that look like empty seas in the summer winds. Ancient rocks set into the earth mark out forgotten roads, leading to forgotten places, connecting one farmland to the next like frayed threads.

No one travels those roads anymore. Not if they don't have to. There are too many unknowns along the way. Scavengers lurk in the trees, and predators in the grasses. It's said that sometimes the roads disappear entirely, swallowed by the untamed growth and neglect of ages past. In the distance there are mountains; monoliths of a border long abandoned. To say that whatever lays beyond them could be better would be unwise; because no one even really knows whats past the view from their fields. These people work their crops, and live off what they can. They lead simple lives, deriving contentment from what they can, because to stray too far would surely spell their end. What keeps these farmers safe are the shrines. At the edges of each field, small mounds topped with carved figures keep watch. Their forms and faces worn to unrecognizable specters, each one facing out into the wilds like sentinels. The people here leave them wild flowers, and bow their heads as they pass, but no one knows where they came from. It has been too long since they were made, and now their purpose and function have all but been lost to memory. Even the elders here tell fractured stories at night; their own minds turning to faded and broken things. They speak of towns, towns with large stone buildings, where dozens and dozens of people met and lived together. Places without shrines that the Earth consumed when the stars fell from the sky.

.

Traitor

 Brendel Eldrien rode in silence alongside his Silver Spear companions.  The border patrol around the western Keep was a boring post, at best, but at least it was a post. He contented himself with the fact that the Lord here was a very powerful man worth protecting, and not that there were no threats to guard against. Frankly, with Brendel's track record, he was secretly surprised to have a post at all. More then half the time he was unwittingly irritating a superior officer just by having more common sense. 

He winced at the thought. It was those sorts of ideas that got him in trouble. The rest of the silver spears - his companions included - were full blooded family heirs. They all shared many things; the platinum hair, the grueling training, the loyalty to the Elven Throne. But Brendel felt he had things they lacked. For example, he had green eyes, denoted by his mother's status as a handmaid, vibrant in comparison to the rest of their silvered gray. He also boasted a rather enlightened opinion of humans as well as the other status elves who lived on the border towns. 

He had been raised as the rest of the Silver Spears, to believe that all life was sacred and that all elves deserved their protection and respect... but Brendel felt like he was the only one who really believed any of it. It was a constant source of irritation, seeing as the crown Prince spoke of these ideals himself, and yet few other followed those Tenements. 

Being half moss-eyed forest elf did have some benefits though. Brendel was often overlooked and underestimated as soon as nobility saw his eyes. Many times it warranted him posts in close proximity to said nobility, as a sort of unobtrusive bodyguard.  Most of the times it was fine. They spoke a lot of gossip and hear-say. 

But two nights ago it had been different. Some of the nobles were plotting something against the human kingdoms, despite years of peace between them. He hadn't told anyone what he had overheard two nights ago, not yet. He'd been on post at the Lord's estate, where his duty had assigned him, and he'd just... overheard it. Two men's voices, hushed, outside for the fresh spring air and some pipe, and their whispers had been careless and hateful, and he'd simply stood there. 

What else could he do? It was not his place to say anything. Regardless of the sinking in his stomach at the mention of 'razing the town to ash' and 'blaming it on human bandits'. They had completely ignored him, never locking eyes, barely acknowledging his presence. His first thought was to speak to his Captain, but Captain Rolivyr hated humans almost as much as he hated Brendel. 

He hadn't known what to do, so he'd written a letter. 

He knew in his heart that there was at least one person who would agree with him; The Prince. Prince Neuvyn was always outspoken and liberal in his opinions. So Brendel had composed a letter, sealed it, and paid for it to be sent with haste from the soldier's post. He'd been succinct and composed, in the hopes that if anything it would warrant at least a sliver of investigation and notice.

"Captain?" Brendel asked. They were well into the woods now. He could hear the Lyrius River howling in the canyon close by. 

The Captain harumphed. "Eldrien."

"We ... are out of our patrol route, sir." Brendel came back from his thoughts. 

They had indeed strayed from the route, closer to the Lyrius river. He didn't recall any reports that would require their attention here. He glanced around. There were only two other men with him and the Captain. Being a Shield himself, Brendel was in no position to make demands or question orders, but... well, he had a problem with that too.

Captain Rolivyr, rolled his eyes. "Quiet, Shield." 

Rolivyr was from a noble class, pure blooded as the rest of them. Ever since their time in training, the Captain had looked down on Brendel - even when it was from the flat of his back in the sparring ring. Though Brendel hadn't the class distinction or favoritism required to advance, he had always been able to best Rolivyr. A fact which had brought upon him immeasurable amounts of ire. From just about everyone.

Very shortly after, the Captain gave the signal for a halt. Curious, Brendel followed the suit of everyone else as they dismounted. Thinking very little of the situation other then it was a foolish waste of time, Brendel turned to regard his horse.

Starlight on the shining metal of the Captain's blade was the only thing that gave him warning, and Brendel stumbled to the side to avoid the close swing. He jumped back from a second, bumping into the rear end of his horse. His hands were raised in alarm. The tableaux would have been lovely had it been a different situation - their shining, oiled leather armor, green and silver, the moonlight-dipped shine to the Captain's sword, the roar of the river... Brendel tossed the thought from his head, vividly calling himself all sorts of imbecilic for thinking of sketching at a time like this.

 "Captain!" He searched the other man's eyes. Surely they were rivals, but wasn't this a bit much?

"You nosy little moss-eye." The Captain snarled. "How dare you speak lies about the Lord of these lands!" He swung again. 

Brendel ducked, itching to draw his own blade, but still wary, still confused. He couldn't draw steel against his superior officer, especially if it wasn't for a training drill! His bow and quiver bounced on his back as he put his shoulders to the tree line and looked at the other two Shields. They were both equally bewildered, hands on their hilts, and ready to draw.

"I did nothing wrong!"

The Captain pulled Brendel's letter from beneath his breastplate and let it fall to the ground. He crushed it beneath a heel. "You Traitor."

Traitor? What? "Captain, it is all true, that human town may be in danger -"

"I have seen your lies! Besides, it's just a human town. Just talk. You have no right nor privilege to question your betters. Shields, this man is a traitor. Take him, and if he does not come willingly, end his pathetic life."

Brendel's eyes went wide as he searched the faces of the three elves before him. What? No, this has to be some sort of sordid prank. He'd been pranked before in good fun (and abject malice, he suppose) but this was going too far. And though he tried to find a sliver of remorse or good humor in his Captain's eyes - he saw none. 

Brendel's hand went for one of his swords, and that was all the signal the other two Shields needed to drive themselves into action. The Captain made one more swing at Brendel, who deflected it with ease, before the reinforcements made their moves.

One blade was not going to cut it against two soldiers, but he had no desire to harm his fellow Silver Spears. He deflected, parried, and deflected again, and then with his free hand he grasped the incoming wrist of the nearest assailant, ducking the blow. The second man's next blow he mostly managed to avoid, the blade landing a rather shallow hit to the joint of his grasping arm. Brendel winced, but then his foot came up and he kicked the first man in the chest, releasing in time to send him careening into the other Shield.

Then Brendel turned and ran. The Captain shouted after him. 

This is insanity. What exactly had I overheard? Surely it wasn't an actual plan, and surely once the Prince heard about it, the rebellious idea would be crushed, and everyone would move on... what I don't understand is the Captain's behavior. Did he truly hate humans that much? Or... or does he truly hate me that much?

The thoughts were distracting him from the trail, and the woods opened up only to reveal the cliff's edge. Brendel frantically looked from side to side for an opening, but none came.

Lancing pain, sharp and rending, tore through Brendel's side, the force of which turned him.  An arrowhead shot from close range and with extreme force. Brendel could see the shining head of it poking through his abdomen. The momentum spun him around. His foot lost purchase, and suddenly he was no longer upright. The feeling of plummeting was quickly replaced with shocking, inescapable cold as the waters of the Lyrius overcame him and swept him away.

Summoning Demons

Many Years Ago... 

"Have you seen my necklace?"

"Which one?" The servant carried on her chores, dusting away at cobwebby corners of the room. The keep was in a rather... unkempt state, Their room in particular. They had a habit of strewing their things about without a care. They found it better then the bare, cold stone left unadorned. 

She didn't even look at them when they asked their rather simple question.

Rude.

"The gold one, the chain? The one I always wear around my neck?" They gestured with painted nails to their own throat, stretching it so that the servant could get a good look of just how bare it was, at present.

"No, Master."

"Think I prefer Mistress today."

"No, Mistress."

They gave the servant a squint. Doe eyes, brown hair, the same uniform as all the others, a droll black and white. Fit, tall, and almost stern faced. 

As if they were one to talk about black and white. They rarely chose any other colors for their own wardrobe either.

"Are you new?"

The servant girl finally looked over, feather duster paused mid-swish. "Yes, Mistress. Since this morning."

"Hmph." They turned away from the girl and snatched up the nearest discarded garment from the back of a chair. Oh, they liked this one; a bit lacy on the back, open front, very flowy, showed hip and midriff with the right pair of pants.

Ugh, pants.

"Well," they continued, moving on to their dresser to poke around for undergarments, "for future reference it is customary to knock before you barge in on me. Who knows that the Lord would have me be doing in here." They cast her a curious glance. "Thought the others would have filled you in, but I guess not."

"Apologies, Mistress."

They pulled out a pair of equally flowy, cinch-ankled harem pants and held them up. Oh these were the ones with the little bells on the tie! Yes, that would do nicely. As for undergarments? They scanned the room and then settled on the view outside their window.

Bleak and gray and hot. The kingdom was dirty, and poor, and it was because of this stinking, addled Lord. 

Another day on Earth, they supposed. Thus, it was too nice a day for undergarments.

"On second thought, I think I would prefer if you called me Master."

"Yes, Master."

They smiled, pulling the pants on one leg at a time. They looped the found blouse over one arm with a sigh. 

"Then again, no one calls me by any title here. I would have assumed someone would have filled you in on that, too."

They felt something cold and sharp press against the small of their back, and their spine straightened. They pulled in a long, slow breath and their eyes went wide with amused surprise. 

"Oh dear. Here to kill me then?"

"Yes." The servant girl was rather close now, dangerously close. For her, anyway.

They could feel her breath tickle the feathery hair at the back of their neck. A few black strands fluttered in their vision, catching on their long lashes as they slid their eyes to the side. Yet they did not move away.

"How many attempts does that make? Four? Five?"

"Seven." She pressed the tip of her blade a little harder against their flesh, and they let out a soft hiss as it broke the skin. "Seven. My success will make eight."

They chuckled, the smile wistful and elegant, matching the gleam in their dark left eye. "Not sure what you hope to accomplish. I'm not the one enslaving you."

"You're a loyal pet to the Lord. A powerful one. And if I kill you, he has one less pawn to use against us."

They could feel the hatred in her voice. It trembled across their skin from their bare toes to the tips of their curled horns. "Why not just kill him, hmm? Kill him and our servitude ends."

"Lies."

"I keep trying to tell you people this, and you always say the same thing. But why would I lie, exactly?"

The blade pushed further, and they arched their spine, an involuntary movement. Their head tilted back and another sigh brushed past their lips. 

"To save your own skin."

"My skin hardly needs saving."

"Enough talk."

"Then stop talking and kill me already." They snorted. 

The girl behind them edged the blade a fraction deeper, and they let out a surprised hiss. Her voice was hard, but confused as she hissed her next words. "Why aren't you fighting me? I thought you were supposed to be powerful."

"Oh I am."

"I could kill you right now."

"But you won't."

"I will."

They sighed at her persistence. And then, they started to turn around. The blouse they had been holding slipped to the floor, and they felt the tip of the blade glide across their skin, leaving a thin crimson trail. They stopped when it was aimed just above their bellybutton, eyes leveled at that frightened, doe-brown gaze.

"You won't, actually."

She stared at them. They had to give her credit - her hand didn't so much as tremble as it held the blade steady, and she blinked, but didn't look away. However, she did seem at a loss for words.

"Shall I tell you why?"

She did not respond. 

They reached up one hand and ever so gently put it over hers, the one holding the knife. And then they brought their joined hands up higher, the blade pressing just beneath their ribcage. "Because I am not the one you wish to kill, of course. You need to kill the Lord. The one who summoned me."

"I... I can't. He's too well guarded, I would never--"

They reached up their other hand and gently cupped the side of her face. "I can tell you how. It'll free us both."

She stared at him. As they held her hand, the knife clattered to the floor between them. And in the instant it took for her to take a breath to speak, they had stepped closer. The air smelled faintly of winter air, blood, and jasmine. Their lips were an inch away from hers, no more, and they spoke again.

"I hate him as much as you do. Let me help you. Free us both."

A whisper in a larger room. The faintest echo of the fallen blade, and this girl's heartbeat. She impulsively reached out to put her hand on their chest, to stop their movement, perhaps?

"I - I have nothing to give you, I cannot pay--"

"I don't like being paid." They looked over her face, a ghost of a smile playing on their lips. "I like gifts. Nothing more. And I wish for closeness. I wish for warmth. I wish for... a kiss, maybe."

"A kiss? And you will tell me how to kill him?"

They dropped their voice to something more like a purr. "Oh you know how to kill him. for a kiss, I'll tell you where. And for perhaps a second one, I'll tell you when."

They could feel her heart skip a beat as their eyes met again. They could watch as she steeled herself for this arrangement, straightening her spine and setting her jaw. 

Oh that wouldn't do. 

They brushed their thumb along her cheek, and felt some of those muscles relax. "Please. I will not harm you. And despite the... teeth I bare, I will not bite."

Please. Just this once, kindness would be so very nice.

"M-my name...?"

"Only if you wish to tell me."

"Myra. I'm Myra." Her eyes softened, and with such trepidation, her one hand slid up along their chest, over the firm ridges of their abdomen, and to their neck. Delicate fingers, worn with hard work, but slender. Soft.

"Myra." They breathed, repeating it tenderly. They shut their eyes a moment, letting the name convalesce in their mind. A name freely given. It sent a shiver down their spine. What a gift. They leaned a fraction closer. Their warmth mingled with hers, roaring softly between them, unbeckoned. 

This was where real power came from. Their power. These gifts. 

"Your... name?" Her breath was a soft whisper as she gazed at them. They opened their eyes to receive the question, tasting her shallow breath on their lips.

The time between them stretched for an eon as they listened to the cacophony of their racing hearts. And the moment before their lips met, and a delicious, forbidden passion claimed the both of them, they whispered their name in the silence between.

"Darius."