Vampiris Sancti: The Elf (35 page)

An Elf once
under the belief that she was trapped, whether physical or
emotional, would become almost demon in the intensity of her
response. This being, whose normal demeanour was one of
irrepressible mischief, would display a focus worthy of any demon
obsession. Games would be put aside and once removed from the
status of observer she would become a participant in the dangerous
play for survival. This sudden shift not only took the subject of
her scrutiny by surprise, but also gave her an advantage for a
proactive Elf was as unexpected as she was hazardous. The intensity
required to remain focused while combined with a lack of mischief
rendered the Elf a brittle, exhausted creature. Here was a
being—once in defence mode—capable of subterfuge, stealth, and
copious amounts of sanity making her a dangerous opponent. The Elf
in defence had the ability to think clearly and more importantly
sometimes actually implement those thoughts into action. An Elf in
suspense was rarely seen because she would rather escape from
disharmony as she rendered little attachment to places, people, or
things. The Elf who became involved was usually one placed in a
position where she must interact or had matured into one ready to
face emotional consequences. If matured she would remain alone for
only a brief time and was usually snapped up into a union—often
with the one she was in conflict with. Once suspended the Elf could
only tolerate this state of mind for a short period. If not able to
relapse into her usual behaviour of aloof disregard then she would
burn out—sometimes falling into the Despair. Suspension was at best
a temporary coping mechanism towards a situation no longer in her
control and could not be relied on as a permanent solution to a
problem.

Suspending her
emotional self the Elf often scorned as nothing more than an
ornamental plaything of misbehaviour would become a formidable and
often indecipherable adversary. If she wished she wouldn’t be seen
or found and could wreak mayhem upon the life of another without
discrimination. Elves couldn’t sustain this gu-elf-rilla warfare
for long, but they could create enough discord in their victim’s
lives to last years. Unfortunately, an Elf in suspension was also a
creature unable to anticipate the consequences of her actions and
the aftermath often consisted of an irate hunt for the magical
miscreant. Returning to her own realm could offer only limited
protection for her world was governed by the self same capacity for
disorder and discord. Though the Elders of her world wouldn’t hand
over the sinner to the offended party, even if the Elf was deemed
to be in the wrong, she was advised to seek off world accommodation
until outrage abated. Unfortunately, the intricate diplomacy of a
violent universe perpetually held in check didn’t offer much
protection as most would sell her out in a flash to remove the
glare of the Empire from their shores. If she was lucky, or
unlucky, a Martyc might pay for her transgressions with the price
being an eternal union with a being who barely allowed her out of
their sight. If she was not ready for such a fate then she would be
held prisoner of her misery until the Despair claimed her. A
suspended Elf, despite her myriad of talents and resilience of
spirit, was often the instrument of her own catastrophe. But then
again the Elders rarely agreed upon anything, so while they argued
about the culpability of the Elf she had usually absconded to
greener pastures. The demon universe while realising they
technically had recourse through the Elders had long accepted that
when it came to an Elf it usually was futile to bother. The best
defence against an Elf under suspension was to dabble in her own
magical behaviour and simply pretend she wasn’t there.

**********

Swift as the
wind

Quiet as the
forest

Conquer like
the fire

Steady as the
mountain

Sun Tzu

To those
uninitiated into life beyond the Veil the sight of a Pixie
quivering drunkenly and an Elf consuming a bouquet of flowers
against the barren inner city landscape could pose a somewhat
alarming, ludicrous sight. Beb managed to release a series of
popping belches that sounded like champagne corks while fluttering
up and down on the same spot in an attempt to articulate his news.
Zyre ate the flowers that she had appropriated from the inner
sanctum of the Vampire Chambers before dissolving across to the
song of Beb. Not as useful as honey or chocolate flowers could
serve as an energy source in a pinch and she was taking no chances.
The stricken look upon the face of her cohort suggested that she
stock up on all she could for it took a good minute before the
Pixie could divulge his information.

“Beb! I sent
you home—why you here? Did you lose your juniper?”

While for
others being inebriated was usually the cause of inarticulate
rambling in the case of a Pixie it was the tormenting reality of
sobriety that hindered communication. Beb was without a doubt
exceedingly drunk, which gave him the ability to tell Zyre what he
had discovered. Although the gin had given him voice it didn’t
greatly improve his coherence.

“I try to go
through doorway— then I remember Nefarious and the truth it comes,
it comes and I had to make it all one piece.
Scourge—bandit—her!”

Luckily Zyre
didn’t possess a mind that traversed the path of logic very often,
so the struggle for words did nothing to impede her understanding
of the situation.

She translated,
“Taryst is already here with the Raiders?”

Beb gave a
terrified stare that made the Elf instantly uneasy.

“Raiders here
now—Vampire party—now with Martyc trouble.”

Zyre stared at
Beb in disbelief. “They are going to the Velare Ball?”

Beb stopped his
flailing long enough to assemble one of his rare moments of total
lucidity, “They will be here in about fifteen minutes.”

“How can they
be here so fast? They couldn’t arrive through the doorway so many
now at once.”

Beb belched.
“They been here maybe long time—this was very last thought of
Nefarious, the one he hid from me lies within lies until the truth
is out.”

Zyre couldn’t
help cursing the demon. “Vryn and his blinkity Martyc arrogance—he
couldn’t believe someone would dare betray him!”

She grabbed
hold of the inebriated Pixie for if there was going to be a
skirmish then she would back one Pixie against a horde of low-level
demons.

“Zyre!” he
protested.

She couldn’t
hide her stress. “Only one more time—please Beb. They be here and
we can go or stay. But this Xatn is too stupid to be alone and
innocents will suffer.”

The Pixie,
unused to the cost of friendship scowled at her. “This demon take
care of himself just fine for he makes Zyre silly as a Gnome. I
stay this once. We rescue Martyc just once—then no more! We be
magical, not friends of the Empire! You find another to smoochie,
smooch or take him as yours.”

Ignoring the
truth of his complaint she dissolved them back to the Oric who were
still watching the Vampiric activity at the Chambers. They were
becoming so used to her random visits they barely blinked at the
sudden arrival of a magical ensemble at their new location. She
left Beb struggling to stay vertical as he gave the younger Oric
the terrifying leer that passed as his smile.

She took the
leader for a brief aside while speaking with human carefulness.
“Taryst Janeb tis be here in a few minutes, she has Raiders from
Kyopulus and they want to make bother. These Raiders be dangerous
because they kill everything for greed—they will strip your world
and sell your children as slaves.”

The Key didn’t
have to struggle with her alluring floral scent or tantalising
proximity for her startling disclosure helped him focus upon the
problem at hand. Zyre wasn’t used to making decisions concerning
others and if the Veil had not been so vital to this world she
would have made herself a cosy spot on the sidelines to view the
show. Having little confidence in their combat skills after her
Eidex exhibition she didn’t want to rely solely upon the ability of
her human friends to deflect an attack by the Raiders. She searched
her mind for ones who would be suitable and came up with a
choice.

“Stay here I
will bring help.”

Since the Oric
had no intent of leaving her would-be command fell upon empty air
since the leader was already busy on his phone seeking
reinforcements. Zyre dissolved back into the Ball to appear behind
the cathedra chairs of the Ghuvk and even the powerful Aunsin
became startled by her sudden appearance. She didn’t waste time
upon niceties as she had a limited amount of concentration and was
intent upon using it before her natural tendencies scattered her
focus.

Zyre leaned
into the leader Ghuvk Hilara. “Taryst Janeb and Raiders are coming
to make war on Velare. We need Runners outside and mind the Oric
they are helping.”

Ideal Hilara
hadn’t become a revered Vampire leader for a reason as trite as her
beauty and she nodded quietly, though not surprised when she found
a vacant space where the Elf once stood. Zyre’s sudden appearance
at the Martyc table didn’t disturb the occupants for Vryn would
have been aware of her presence the moment she reappeared. As
difficult as it was for the Elf to concentrate upon her goal, the
moment their eyes met she was distracted as teal became clear green
as the dark demon held her stare in his. The interlude lasted only
a few seconds, but that was enough to leave the Elf in the mixed
turmoil of desire and disarray. Once again emotion foiled intellect
and without understanding why the Elf ignored the most powerful
being on world to take the arm of the Varkja who failed to conceal
his faint alarm at her touch.

In order to
subdue a huge demon quickly Zyre said the only words he would
require, “Taryst Janeb.”

Vryn rose at
the name and the Elf continued her strange behaviour. “No, no, you
might ruin your nice suit.”

The dark demon
became darker at the inference that he would be reluctant to engage
in a physical confrontation, but his anger had no audience because
she had dissolved the Varkja onto the roof containing the Oric.
Zyre, still cranky at Dhaigre despite the caress of his lips,
couldn’t reconcile that her behaviour was the urge to protect him
from harm. The human occupants, while used to the Elf, were not
used to the sudden presence of the large silver demon and several
Oric stepped back in alarm.

A young Oric
both arrogant and bold looked unimpressed. “A single Varkja? We are
under attack from bandits and this is all you bring us?”

The demon moved
forward as if to show what a single Varkja was capable of and the
Elf allowed her ruby lips to curl into the familiar smile. “The
thing is with Varkja—where there’s one….”

Her voice
trailed off as the Varkja walked to the edge of the building and
released a shrill whistle that left their ears ringing. On the
street below several beings appeared to detach themselves from
various vantage points. Beb fluttered haphazardly across the
rooftop until he was looking up at the mercenary while emitting a
series of small belches in the Varkja’s face. The silver demon held
himself battle ready as humans were one thing, but a Pixie was
another for while the former would attempt to kill you for good
reason the latter would do so because you smelled bad. A small
disturbance on the street distracted their attention and they
looked below to see the Runners in a standoff with the approaching
Varkja. Zyre rolled her eyes at the Oric before dissolving into the
midst of the antagonists. If the Varkja were surprised to see the
Vampires, then the Elf added another aspect to the bizarre ensemble
as life became surreal when the wayward Elf lectured those
present.

“No time for
fun because the Raiders be here in minutes! Then your problem won’t
be each other or humans but Taryst Janeb! So make friends because
what you fight for is this entire world.”

Her scold had
the appropriate effect as the Vampires leapt easily to the rooftop
while the Varkja climbed without further comment. The head of
Martyc security turned back around to discover her eyes were now a
glowing sapphire blue and her nod had him take reins of leadership
with ease.

The confused
Oric looked towards their leader for instruction and Zyre murmured
to him, “The Varkja knows of the Raiders, so follow their lead as
they battle well.”

While the Oric
might have been educated upon the various demons of the Reveal
their own experience was only that of hearsay as the Empire had
kept the scourge off world. As their leader gave his orders he
obviously was not prepared for the support of one gassy Pixie who
stood beside him while giving the humans the grace of another
terrifying leer.

The brash young
Oric wiping the sweat from his brow was startled by the reeking
breath of the Pixie hiccupping in his ear.

“Don’t worry
there—you got Beb looking after you.”

In the human
world there was a sentiment often proffered that youth never knew
how good they had it. The young Oric instead of realising that his
guardian was in effect probably the most dangerous creature upon
the roof instead cringed at the thought of his magical support.

Zyre looked
towards the Chamber rooftop and asked the Varkja, “The
Gargoyles?”

The Varkja
followed her gaze before shaking his head in the negative. “They
guard buildings not people, so they will be the last line of
defence.”

The silver
mercenaries required no instructions and not only had sought out
strategic placement upon the roof, but also managed to produce a
vast assortment of weapons made in the famous Viznix steel. Their
leader brought out his phone, no doubt to apprise his employer of
the situation, and the Elf managed to remain just out of reach of
the communication device. The Vampires took the other side of the
roof to guard the street side as they ignored glares from their
human counterparts who less than an hour ago would have attempted
to arrange their deaths.