The Least of Elves

by Robin Glassey

  The hooded figures had now come within twenty-five paces of Sosha and paused. The middle one spoke, “We’re priests of the Order of Tyomna traveling through Rhodea to preach our religion. Is this Kipra Village?”

  Sosha realized with surprise at the zhoban’s opening line they didn’t know who she was. She needed to play this just right. “Indeed it is,” she replied. She saw no reason to lie to the zhobani about this. They knew where they were.

  “Then we have found our destination,” the middle zhoban said. He appeared to be spokesperson for the group. They began to advance forward again and Sosha raised a hand to forestall them. They stopped at her raised hand.

  Pretending to be priests? That was stooping really low. If they didn’t want to deal directly with her, then she wouldn’t deal directly with them. That served her purposes just fine. She’d keep them talking and buy more time for Toran.

  “We already have our religion here and won’t be needing another religion, so you’ve wasted your time in coming I’m afraid. You can tell your superiors we’re happy with The One God and have no need of your services.”

  “Surely a young lady such as yourself does not speak for the whole village?”

  “Ah, but someone as young as myself has been taught well by my elders. And my elders have taught me to respect and follow Rhava. So I only tell you what the village Elders will tell you and save you time, energy, and daylight — which is already failing. Pleasant journey, gentle sirs.” This last was said with a touch of sarcasm. She just couldn’t help herself).

  Sosha could tell from his tone the middle zhoban was getting irritated with her and he clearly had a mission to complete. Knowing the zhoban had failed when she was a child these zhobani obviously wanted to be sure they found the child before they did any killing.

  “Young lady, I’m surprised at your inhospitable nature. I met with a messenger Elf along the way who specifically praised the virtues of Kipra, and told me should we come through we’d be most welcome here. He specifically told us to call upon an Elf named Toran. Perhaps you could direct me to Toran’s home?”

  Sosha’s blood ran cold when the zhoban spoke of the messenger Elf. “Corsyn?” The question escaped her mouth before she could stop herself.

  “Indeed. He talked of a quaint little village he’d just passed through and we thought it would be the perfect place to share our message.”

  Toran’s brother Corsyn had indeed visited them recently. That would explain why she was now facing imminent death and Toran was racing to Xanti with their daughter in his arms. Sosha doubted Corsyn had given the zhobani any information willingly — even if his parting words to Toran had been less than pleasant. She hated to think what means Mortan had used to torture her brother-in-law for their names and location. Yet she couldn’t spare another moment wondering if the messenger Elf was alive or dead. She had to concentrate on the here and now.

  Sosha cleared her throat which had started to close up with emotion over Corsyn’s unknown fate and spoke, “I’m sorry to disappoint, but Toran is not home. In fact, he left the village some time ago.” She made a vague gesture with her hands. “He makes deliveries of some kind.” She tried to say this with disinterest to appear as a vapid young lady who only knew he was gone, but didn’t care enough to know the details of the when and why.

  Her ears now picked up the sound she hoped to hear — the growls of a sand tiger pack communicating to each another out in the grasses. Sand tigers were very territorial and from the sounds of it the faery had helped them catch the zhrallis’ scent. The sand tigers might help eliminate a few zhralli for her.

  Sosha felt a twinge of guilt over using the tigers, for it was doubtful any of them would survive this exchange either. The large cats were fierce creatures with deadly natural defenses. Zhralli were fiercer. Still, the dog-like creatures would be distracted away from Sosha. Just what she needed.

  The zhoban sounded frustrated. “I’m sorry to hear that. We were looking forward to meeting Toran. Corsyn also mentioned the possibility of meeting Sosha while we are here.”

  They still hadn’t realized who she was. He was definitely fishing. The zhobani had names and a location, but perhaps not descriptions. At the same time, she couldn’t afford to have them enter the village for all it would accomplish would be villagers tortured, lives lost, and they’d end up back at her anyway. She couldn’t sacrifice their lives for hers.

  “Sosha you say? That’s a rather common name. I don’t suppose you could describe her for us?”

  “Well, she’d probably be about your age — with dark brown hair,” there was a short pause, “like yours. And she’s with child.”

  Sosha imagined the zhoban taking a closer look at her as he gave the description; as though he was really seeing her for the first time. She imagined his eyes narrowing in concentration. Her stomach had not yet returned to normal size, yet it was not as big from carrying her baby. Perhaps it was the fact he was looking for a very pregnant woman which had thrown him off.

  She heard a slight clicking sound (his skeletal fingers giving a signal perhaps?) and then the shuffling of feet as the hooded figures spread out from each other. Ushinu warned Sosha of their change in location.

  She knew the undead man had finally made the connection when he asked, “Just out of curiosity, I notice you have scars down your face. Exactly how did you come by your injury?”

  Time was up. She might be only half Wind Elemental, but she was all mother. Were they prepared for that?

  Sosha’s fingers twitched in readiness. She flashed them a smile that held no warmth. “I had a fight with a zhralli a long time ago,” she replied. “Aren’t you going to ask me who won?”

  “Who won?” he asked.

  Just then the sand tiger pack attacked the still hidden zhralli. The zhobanis’ heads whipped around at the vicious screams of the tigers and the returning howls of the zhralli out in the prairie grasses.

  “I did,” Sosha said. She raised her arms and all the faeries flew up from their hiding places to surround Sosha in an instant. Before the zhobani had a chance to turn back, Sosha thrust a solid wall of wind at them, knocking the evil creatures off their feet and slamming them down to the ground.

  They scrambled to get up, but with Ushinu guiding Sosha’s efforts her hands quickly gathered the air, sending out whirlwinds to wrap around the zhobani.

  The whirlwinds swirled the robed creatures up in the air and flung them down to the ground again. If they’d been alive their necks would have snapped — killing them instantly. But they were the living dead, so the zhobani leapt back up as though nothing had happened.

  Sosha quickly thickened the air in front of her creating a “shield,” although this came at a great cost to her energy reserves.

  Sosha wondered how long she could keep them busy, with fatigue already setting in. She’d tear them apart one by one if she could.

  Ushinu warned her the five were gathering their dark magic together between their palms. Sosha gave the faeries the job of keeping the zhobanis’ arms apart so they couldn’t throw deadly green magic at her. Five against one were terrible odds.

  The spokesman recovered first from the whirlwind attack and struggled to join his hands, despite the faeries blasting air at him from all sides. Ushinu suggested Sosha take out the zhoban on the far right, who appeared to be the weakest of the group.

  Putting her personal safety at risk for a moment, Sosha let down her shield and sent a powerful wind to her right. She focused all of her energy on the swirling wind, asking it to tear and shred, leave no solid form behind. The wind shrieked and howled and took not only the zhoban on the right, but a second zhobani also. It did as she asked, tearing and shredding and the zhobani screamed as they were rendered into tiny pieces. They became a part of the churning wind, a dark terrible tempest that whirled and whistled angrily.

  With such a force behind it, this particular creation had no desire to dissipate and raced back towar
ds its creator. Sosha was not yet ready to face Death, however, and using up even more reserves of her strength she begged the wind to diminish and pass her by gently to the south. At the last moment it seemed the shrieking gale died down, and a gentle breeze blew past her which smelled of burnt ash.

  Sosha trembled with the effort of using so much power at once. If only she could have controlled the wind enough to eliminate all five zhobani! The faeries on her left had managed to tear apart another zhoban with wind, but at a terrible cost. Several of her friends lay dead in the field not far from her feet. Two zhobani still remained — the most powerful ones.

  “It’s useless to fight against us, Sosha. You cannot hope to win. I can see you’re already tired, and you’re running out of little ones to help you see. Should I pick them off one by one?” He laughed as he shot bolts of magic at the faeries. She heard the zap when each bolt hit a faery.

  “Stop it!” Sosha screamed, blasting a wind bolt at the cruel shell of man. The zhoban deftly moved out of the way, continuing to fire his dark magic at the young faeries. They dropped to the ground like overfed imry bugs. She felt like dropping too — her legs wobbling dangerously with fatigue.

  “What about Toran? Will we find him close by — in the village perhaps?”

  He was taunting her, trying to use her emotions to get her to lose control. Sosha needed to calm down. Taking a deep breath she threw several dense balls of air in a row that knocked him back. Ushinu cheered encouragingly in her ear.

  “I told the truth when I said he wasn’t in the village. He and our baby are gone. I know your kind. Did you think we’d make it easy for you? Did you think we’d tell anyone in that village our plans so you could use them? They don’t even know who I really am, let alone where Toran is. After what your kind did to my mother and to me — why in the world would I make it easy for you?” she spat out at him.

  “I hear the truth of your words in your voice. But like you, I have also thought ahead.” Sosha heard the smile in his tone and the scrape of the ground as his feet dug in for his next strike.

  The zhoban declared, “And as the child is no longer with you, you are expendable.”

  They hadn’t been really trying to kill her so far?

  Sosha’s heart tightened and Ushinu chattered a warning in her ear as an onslaught of bolts from the two zhobani raced towards her. She didn’t have enough strength to create a shield.

  This was it.

  The last few faeries hurled themselves in front of the bolts sacrificing themselves to save Sosha.

  She dodged and threw wind balls, sent out whirlwinds, but she felt her strength failing. A bolt of dark magic hit her side and Sosha fell to the ground.

  As darkness closed in and Sosha sensed Death enter the field she thought, I’ll always love you, my little princess.

  Nine

  Toran imagined his beloved wife standing before the zhobani with arms raised and all the faeries surrounding her. In his mind’s eye he pictured her throwing a wall of wind at the zhobani, knocking them off their feet and slamming them down on the ground. He pictured whirlwinds lifting the skeletal creatures up and taking them away.

  He knew his wishes were just that — wishes. His wife had incredible abilities; however, as a little girl she had only stood against one zhoban and a few zhralli. Toran tended to think Mortan would not make the same mistake twice. How long could she last against two, three or several? His heart froze at the thought and he almost turned back. The baby strapped against his chest wiggled, and he did not dare do it. He had someone else to save.

  The distant howling of the zhralli told Toran his head start provided him by Sosha had ended — they had picked up his trail. It also meant his wife had failed. Tears pricked his eyes, and the faeries quickly dried them. He could not have his vision blurry now and they knew it. They kept a close watch on him as Sosha had ordered. The faeries continued to help him when he stumbled and even brought milk for the baby which he fed her from a hakku horn. He had no idea what kind of milk it was or where they had gotten it from. Still, she drank it up and fell back asleep as he ran.

  The new father had been running steadily for two days now. Running through the night had been the most difficult part. Even though Elves have great night vision, it is not perfect and he was, after all, clumsy. Fear for his daughter had him running at his best, though, and he had never run better or harder in his life. That being said, the strain and stress of the approaching zhralli, along with very little rest had begun to take its toll. Fortunately, the baby appeared to be doing fine, having slept most of the time.

  When Toran had traveled to Kipra Village he had not run at the breakneck pace he now made. This time, his trip through the plains only took him half a day and he was already making his way through the Forest of Xanti.

  Toran hoped to come across an Elven scouting party who could deal with the zhralli which now tracked him. Despite the bow and arrows strapped to his back and knives at his side for close combat, he was no warrior Elf. He could not fight these creatures, and as he listened to the multiple howls carried to him by the wind and his supersensitive hearing, they served to motivate his feet to carry him faster. He needed to keep ahead of the danger.

  There could be no more rests ahead — this was the run of Toran’s life. The trees passed so quickly they blurred together, his feet seemed to barely touch the ground, his eyes focused ahead darting from place to place looking for the best route — the one with the least obstructions. He needed to avoid fallen trees blocking his path and annoying debris which tended to trip him up. Every few minutes the howling recommenced, sounding ever closer.

  As a distraction, Toran turned his thoughts to his daughter and his wife’s request he give the infant a name. This was not an easy task he had been given. He had rather hoped Sosha would do this. He had lived a life of making mistakes and to place such a huge responsibility as this on his shoulders …. Elven names carried great significance and he did not want his daughter’s life to begin in error from the very beginning.

  Howling interrupted his thoughts again. Too close. It echoed on both sides of him now. They had divided up into two groups, closing in. He feared they would get in front of him as well, and he did all he could to try and increase his pace. The zhralli had incredible speed to be catching up on him so quickly.

  Shiforeh flew up to Toran’s ear and reported there were twenty zhralli in total, divided up into two groups. In one of the groups spurring them on rode a Drover riding a dark green krixa. Drovers had no inherent magic of their own; however, they could use magical objects to control other creatures. Toran felt grateful no zhoban rode in their midst, yet his heart still constricted at the thought of a dozen zhralli and a Drover close to him. He would need help and soon.

  At least he would not have to worry about encountering any other wild creatures in the forest for they would all be avoiding the zhralli as well. The forest sat strangely silent around him, except for the zhralli howls. Toran’s heart constricted every time they began, and he had to concentrate to keep himself calm.

  The faeries became frantic, and Toran looked back to see a black shape in the distance. One of the pack was gaining on him. He signaled the faeries by twirling his finger in the air. They knew exactly what Toran wanted.

  Five faeries broke off from him, flying back to the dangerously close zhralli. The animal snapped his teeth at them, however, they stayed out of reach and raced around him in a circle creating a twister which lifted the zhralli off of the ground, placing it high up into the tops of the trees. The treetops of the Xanti forest grew so dense you could almost walk across them. They left the creature stranded on the forest tops to try and find its way down — if it could. They sped back to Toran’s side to keep vigilant watch over him and the little one. She had awoken, no doubt because of the howling and clicking of zhralli claws.

  Toran still stood badly outnumbered. He could not fight nineteen of these creatures and a Drover, nor could he d
o so while carrying his daughter. The chance she could be injured during the fight — he could not take it. He had to keep running and hope for help from a hunting or training band. So far Toran’s luck was terrible, although considering his past history this came as no surprise.

  Another zhralli broke away from the group — gaining on him. He could only figure the Drover forced it forward somehow. Toran tried to increase his speed, and found he could not go any faster. The Elf already pushed himself to his limit and was in fact losing speed. His heart raced, his throat burned, his legs wobbled. He mentally begged his body not to give up — to keep going. He had never pushed his body this hard for this long.

  The zhralli were right behind him now. The faeries did their best to trip it and blow it off track, yet it kept regaining it’s footing and accelerating. It lunged and swiped with its claws and Toran barely managed to evade them.

  He finally saw his salvation up ahead and with a sharp cry of “Yishey! Yishey!” Attack! Attack! The band of Elves in the forest ahead took to the trees in preparation for attack. Toran also took to the trees, yet the zhralli behind him ran too close. As Toran began climbing claws raked down his back. He caught his breath at the searing pain, and blood wet the back of his clothing. Despite the injury, Toran still dragged himself up a tree out of reach before the zhralli could turn around and jump at him again.

  It seemed as though Toran’s luck had changed, for he had come upon a large training exercise band of about forty Elves. Although the warriors-in-training outnumbered the zhralli, it took great skill to bring Mortan’s fierce creatures down. They rained arrows down on the beasts that at first, simply resulted in peppering their tough hides with little effect. A few of the arrows struck them in the eyes, blinding the zhralli and causing them to scratch at their own eyes in an attempt to get the offending objects out. This eliminated a few of the creatures and the Elves attempted to aim more carefully for the eyes as a viable target.