Starlight (The Dark Elf War Book 1)

by William Stacey

  Maelhrandia, hiding her hatred behind a smile, stepped up next to her sister’s leg. “Bring our mother my love.”

  “I’ll bring her your prisoner, dear sister, and news of this place.”

  And news of my failure. That’s what you truly mean.

  Maelhrandia stepped back as the wyvern began to beat its massive bat-like wings, buffeting her with air. In moments, the Dragonling was in the air and rising above the jungle, her sister nothing more than a speck upon its mighty back.

  On the opposite side of the clearing, as far away from the wyvern as it could get, Gazekiller lifted his huge horned head and brayed loudly. Maelhrandia smirked, hearing just a hint of residual anger in the beast’s roar. Gazekiller disliked wyverns. Actually, Gazekiller disliked most creatures, but he really hated wyverns and would have gleefully killed and devoured the creature had he not been under Maelhrandia’s control. Maelhrandia glared at the diminishing figure of her sister atop the wyvern as it flew away. She understood Gazekiller’s urge to kill.

  Chapter 4

  Mary Elizabeth Chambers lay on her bed in her dorm room and used her highlighter to mark a long passage in her textbook on the principles of business law. It was a brand-new highlighter, and Elizabeth loved the sharp chemical smell, the bright contrast of yellow on white. It was such a silly little thing to be so pleased about, but she was. When she turned the page and saw that the textbook’s previous owner had highlighted another passage, her good mood took a dip. One of the many problems with used books was that you had to live with what the last owner had thought was important—which, in this case, wasn’t. All the extra highlights would make it harder for Elizabeth to focus. She sighed and flicked a lock of dark hair out of her eyes. Brand-new textbooks would be so cool, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

  A quick glance at the digital clock beside her bed told her it was just after two in the afternoon. She had been hitting the books for almost four hours—a long time even for her. It was a very efficient way to spend a Saturday afternoon. Proper time management was so important.

  Now, though, she needed a study break and maybe a cup of green tea. She slid the heavy textbook away and sat up, extending both arms over her head and stretching. Her roommate, Sandra, was still out with her boyfriend, Neil, doing whatever it was the two of them did on a Saturday afternoon in a small town like Dawson Creek. Most likely, they had gone to a movie in Fort St. John. Sandra’s absence was kind of a relief. She always insisted on talking—even when Elizabeth had her face in a textbook. For whatever reason, Sandra couldn’t stand silence nor did she seem terribly concerned with her grades.

  Elizabeth walked out of her bedroom, past Sandra’s bedroom, and into the suite the two women shared at the Dawson Creek Campus for the Northern Lights College. The suite was small but still larger than the others. The walls were painted a somber white, although Sandra had plastered gaudy posters over most of them. The common area held a round wooden table with two rickety chairs, an old green sofa that had clearly seen better years, and a computer desk, upon which sat Sandra’s Mac. Elizabeth walked into the tiny kitchenette and plugged the kettle in.

  Someone knocked on the suite’s door. When Elizabeth opened it, she saw Sarah, another first-year student. Sarah pushed her glasses up her nose. “You got another phone call. I think it’s your mother… again.”

  Elizabeth chose to ignore the tone of annoyance in Sarah’s voice. She brushed past her. “Thanks.”

  Sandra had a cell phone and had told Elizabeth many times before that she was welcome to use it, but Elizabeth preferred using the communal telephone in the hallway. The truth, as terrible as it sounded, was that she didn’t want to make it that easy for her mother to call her. In the hallway, the telephone’s handset was hanging against the wall where Sarah had left it. Elizabeth stared at it for a moment, took a deep breath, and then snatched it up. “Hello, Mom.”

  She heard her mother’s voice in the receiver. “Mary Elizabeth, dear, why are you still there? We need you here today with everything that’s going on. I told you that this morning.”

  Her mother had been drinking again; Elizabeth could hear it. This early in the afternoon, and her mother was already half in the bag. She closed her eyes and said a quick prayer, asking for strength. “Mom, we’ve already discussed this. I’m a student. I can’t just drop everything and come back to Fort St. John.”

  “I need you here, dear.” The desperation in her mother’s voice came through crystal clear. “Your father needs you, and so do your brothers. Just come for a while. Come and help me with the baby.”

  “Mom, Steven is seven years old. He’s not a baby anymore.”

  “Why won’t you help? You’re my daughter, my only girl. I need you.”

  Her mother was crying again. After twenty years of marriage to Elizabeth’s father, her mother could turn the tears on and off at a moment’s notice. Elizabeth felt her anger spiking.

  “Mom, you don’t need me. You need to stop drinking and get away from him.”

  “You ungrateful little bitch!” her mother snapped, her voice rising to a shrill yell that Elizabeth was certain anyone walking past her in the hallway could hear. “You think you’re so special because you’re in college. It’s not even a real college. You’re not special. You’re no better than us. So what if I have a drink now and then. I’ve wasted my life looking after my children. They don’t care. No one cares. Do you know how much that stupid college is costing us? We can’t afford it. No one can afford your shit.”

  Elizabeth sighed, aware her own eyes were watering. “Mom, I have a scholarship. You’re not paying for anything.”

  “You’re a whore. God knows it, too!”

  “I have to go, Mom. I have to study.”

  “It won’t work, you know. You won’t graduate. Your scholarship runs out this year, and you don’t have a job. And we’re not paying for you. You belong here, helping us, not spreading your legs for everyone with a prick at that school for sluts.”

  “Good-bye, Mom.”

  Elizabeth’s hand trembled as she hung up. She leaned against the wall, her heart hammering in her chest. It was always like this with her mother, always. When she sobered up, tomorrow, she wouldn’t even remember the hateful things she had said—or she would just pretend this conversation had never happened. Her mother was an expert at avoiding problems. Elizabeth, aware she was drawing the attention of other students walking down the hallway, wiped her eyes, put on her best stone face, and then returned to her suite. She closed the door quickly and leaned against the back of it as if she could hold the world out.

  For most of her life, Elizabeth had felt like she had raised herself. She was amazed at how well she had turned out although she lay awake at night and worried about her brothers: they stood no chance as long as they were in that home. Elizabeth went back into her bedroom with her tea, closed the door, and stared at her open schoolbook. If she could get a full scholarship, rather than a partial one, her future would truly be golden. If wishes were wings, she thought, then we’d all fly. God helps those who help themselves. She’d succeed; she’d escape her family, their poverty, and she’d make something of herself. God had a plan for her; she knew He did. He had to.

  Returning to her textbook, she focused on school, finding relief in the principles of business. Soon, thoughts of her mother were replaced by economics and best management practices. When she heard Sandra and Neil return, she glanced again at her clock and was surprised to see it was already 5:00 p.m. She had been completely lost in her work.

  There was a knock on her bedroom door, and Sandra called out to her. “Lizzie, you there?”

  Elizabeth frowned. She hated when people called her Lizzie. She opened her door to see Sandra sitting in her wheelchair. Sandra was blond, thin, and pretty but suffered from slight acne. Neil, holding an open beer can, waved from the couch. Neil was overweight, had gross neck hair, and had far worse acne than Sandra.

  “Hey,” Elizabeth said. “
You’re back.”

  “You been in there all day, honey?” Sandra asked.

  “You know me. Study, study, study.”

  Sandra smiled. “Yeah, I know you. So, how many times did your mom call today?”

  Elizabeth felt her face warm. “Just the one time, but it was a doozy.”

  “Come here, honey.” Sandra opened her arms, and Elizabeth, stepping in closer to Sandra’s wheelchair, let the other woman hug her. She even wrapped her own arms around Sandra’s thin back. When they released one another, Sandra shook her head. “You never should have given her the number to the dorm.”

  “I didn’t. She found it herself.”

  “Just hope she doesn’t get my number,” said Sandra. “Then she’ll call nonstop.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Only when she’s drinking and feeling sorry for herself.”

  Sandra backed up and then spun about and rolled over to sit next to Neil. Neil placed a pudgy hand on her knee. Elizabeth frowned.

  “Hey, Lizzie,” he said with a bucktoothed grin as he held up a Ziploc bag filled with marijuana and several already rolled joints. “Wanna get baked?”

  For some unfathomable reason, Neil saw himself as a big man, the campus drug dealer. “I don’t do drugs, Neil. You know that. I’ve told you that. Repeatedly.”

  Neil laughed although Elizabeth wasn’t smiling. “I know, I know. It’s a sin and all that shit, but there’s always hope for you.”

  “You know you could try it,” said Sandra. “It might relax you.”

  “We gonna par-tay.” Neil inelegantly pushed himself off the couch and turned on the small stereo. Music blared out of the speakers.

  “Actually, Neil, if you don’t mind, I want to keep studying.” Elizabeth forced the anger out of her voice, but it wasn’t easy.

  Neil swayed to the music as he lit the joint. Instantly, the stench of marijuana wafted through the room.

  “I’d really prefer you didn’t do that in here. It’s illegal, and it stinks.”

  Neil plopped down again at the end of the couch near Sandra, casually dismissing Elizabeth with a wave of his hand. “Mellow out, Miss Mormon. It’s just a thing. Jesus can’t see you.”

  Sandra looked uneasy, but she giggled and took the joint from Neil before taking a hit. Shaking her head, Elizabeth walked over to the window and opened it. The cool spring air that blew in didn’t make much of a difference. She crossed her arms and turned back to face the two of them, tapping her foot against the tiles of the floor. “Actually, Neil, He can. That’s kind of the whole point.”

  “Whatevers,” answered Neil just before he took another hit.

  Someone banged on their dorm-room door and then, a moment later, opened it. Once again, Sandra hadn’t locked the door behind her. Three of Neil’s loser buddies poured into the suite, carrying six-packs of beer which they proceeded to place inside the fridge in the kitchen. They grinned, said “What’s up?” and exchanged high fives with Neil, each one giving Sandra a kiss on the forehead.

  “Really? Again?” Elizabeth glared at them. “Come on, guys. This is my dorm room, too.”

  Rupert, one of Neil’s buddies, sidled up next to Elizabeth—stinking of BO—and slipped his hand around the small of her back. “What up, Mary Magdalene? Want to have a religious experience with me?”

  She shuddered and pulled away, her face burning with embarrassment. Within moments, the suite was filled with people, noise, and smoke. Someone cranked up the music even more.

  “Come on, Lizzie,” urged Neil. “Party with us just this one time. You’re in college, for God’s sake.”

  “Yeah, Lizzie,” said Rupert. “You need to loosen up.”

  “And get laid,” giggled Sandra, apparently already stoned.

  They all burst out laughing. Red faced, Elizabeth turned and stormed into her room, slamming the door behind her. She clenched her fists, wanting to scream. The walls vibrated from the noise. They weren’t going to stop, and they weren’t going to go somewhere else. She knew damned well that each one of Neil’s buddies figured if he hung out here often enough, he could get into her pants.

  As if she would ever—ever—be that desperate.

  She could go for a run, calm down. When she came back, she’d take her book and go study somewhere else, somewhere quiet. Her mind made up, she quickly changed into shorts and a T-shirt, keeping a wary eye on the door. It wouldn’t be the first time Neil or one of his buddies accidentally opened it without asking. She double tied the laces on her running shoes and walked back out into the common area, where Sandra and Neil were making out, Neil awkwardly leaning over the side of the couch to get around Sandra’s wheelchair. Rupert and the other two were engaged in a lively debate, gesticulating wildly with their hands. All three stopped talking when they saw Elizabeth and leered at her instead. One of them actually whistled. Rupert offered to help wash her back after her run. The sound of their stupid laughter chased her out into the hallway.

  Jerks. She stormed down the hall, her face hot. She didn’t deserve to be treated like this. It was her dorm suite, too. She paused beside the wall-mounted telephone in the hallway and stared at it.

  * * *

  Forty minutes into her run, Elizabeth was feeling much better. No matter how difficult her life happened to be at any particular moment, once the endorphins started flushing through her bloodstream, she felt as though she could take on anything. The euphoria that came with running, with pushing her body, washed away all doubts and fears… all feelings of guilt. She felt alive when she ran.

  She left the main campus, ran down 116th Avenue, then turned right onto Seventeenth. Along the way, she passed both the Bethel Pentecostal Tabernacle and Grace Lutheran Church. She ran through a residential area with pretty little homes on either side of the cracked pavement. Small children ran and played, and grown-ups smiled and chatted with their neighbors. It all seemed so friendly, so surreal, like something out of a Hallmark television movie. What would it have been like to grow up in a home where the parents weren’t drunk most of the time—where families laughed instead of yelled?

  She cut across the road onto a hiking trail that wound its way through several small parks in the center of town, passing people walking their dogs. She ran along the trail for several kilometers before it came out onto the Dawson Creek-Tupper Highway, a busy four-lane road that led back to the campus. By now, she was well into her fitness zone and had run almost five kilometers. Most days, she ran this route twice, but it was getting late.

  The run had helped. She wasn’t angry anymore, and she felt as if she could deal with Neil and his friends. With God’s help, she could deal with anyone and anything—including her mother.

  Cars and trucks breezed by her, trailing exhaust. She passed the Dawson’s Creek Mall on her right with its Shoppers Drug Mart, Dollarama, and Safeway. Across the highway sat a White Spot restaurant, its parking lot already full. She had gone on a date there once, but it had been a complete disaster. Her date, supposedly a good Christian boy, had expected her to sleep with him because he had bought her dinner. It wasn’t even much of a dinner. She increased her pace, hurrying past the restaurant. God had a plan for her, and nobody was going to treat her like an object.

  Up ahead, she saw the well-manicured lawn of the campus, and she veered toward it and onto the grass. A half hour ago, the campus’s students had been spread out over the lawn, throwing Frisbees, sitting, talking, hanging out—now, they were all clustered near the parking lot of the residential dorms, standing around flashing red-and-blue lights.

  She slowed to a walk and put her hands on the small of her back, letting her heart rate return to normal. The students clustered near two Royal Canadian Mounted Police—RCMP—cars. As she approached, she put her fingers against her throat and counted her pulse. One of the Mounties stood beside his open driver’s-side door, talking into a radio. A third RCMP vehicle—a blue-and-white van—now pulled into the parking lot, its lights flashing and siren blaring. Two more Mounties
got out of the van and opened the back doors.

  The Dawson’s Creek RCMP detachment was there in force, it seemed.

  Elizabeth slipped through the crowd and watched as another officer came out of the dorm, pushing a handcuffed Neil in front of him. The young man was wild-eyed and white faced, looking as if he were about to start crying. The Mountie led him to the back of the van and pushed him into it. Elizabeth knew she shouldn’t take comfort in others’ misfortune, but she couldn’t help it—after all, she was only human—and she smiled. Moments later, Rupert and his other two buddies, also in handcuffs, were led out of the dorm building, joining Neil in the van. The crowd had grown, and the buzz of excited conversation spread among them. Elizabeth couldn’t imagine anyone was all that surprised. Just about everyone on campus knew they could score weed from Neil. The only real surprise should be why it had taken so long for him to be caught.

  The crowd went silent when another Mountie, a young woman, came out of the dorm building, pushing Sandra in her wheelchair. Sandra was in tears, and her head swung about in disbelief. When she spotted Elizabeth in the crowd, she raised her arms out to her. “Elizabeth, please,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “They’re going to arrest me. You have to tell them this is a mistake. I can’t be arrested.”

  Several of the other Mounties gathered about Sandra’s wheelchair at the rear of the van, and together, they lifted her up into the back. Then they strapped the wheelchair, with Sandra still in it, in place so it wouldn’t move, right next to Neil and the others. Elizabeth edged closer, stopping about ten feet away.