Off in the distance, the war drums of the great mother�s army pounded furiously as her darkened minions unleashed an intense assault upon the defiant rock structures of the Key Peaks mountain range and its surrounding lands. The tides of her war had changed fronts from west to east, yet the true bloodshed of this night would not be spilled upon the eastern lands where the battle of nature now raged.
In mute
silence, the Kil`reas left the safe confines of the Red Forest, slipping across
the open plains toward the settlement of Larmian like predatory apparitions in
their hunt for the souls of the living. The light drizzle that had coated the
land no longer fell, but it had left the ground muddied and soft. Even so, not a
single glurp or plop of feet caught in the mud was heard; no sound was made at
all. The elven rangers were trained extensively to work in silence, like ghosts
in the night that would never be seen nor heard. They moved swiftly and with
confidence across the narrow gap of open space that separated the settlement and
the forest�s borders, never once faltering or pausing with
doubts.
Even if a guard had been posted this night, there was little chance that the he would have seen the Kil`reas advance from the thicketed brush. They descended upon Larmian with a stealth unknown to humans, and the slumbering inhabitants of the small town never once knew that soon they would be made an example of for all of their kind on this land to see. As they reached the border of the settlement, the contingent of elven fighters immediately broke off into paired groups and dispersed through the settlement, each with their own obligations to fulfill for the mission. Larmian was by no means a large town at this time, having only been founded about a year before when the human army had broken the elven stronghold, Telin�ril, on the plains just north of what would become the future site of Brookeshire Keep. The size of the small village was perfect for the plot, and it allowed the elves to move through the streets undetected while carrying out their duties.
Just on
the outskirts of the settlement, one group in particular, rounded the corner of
a designated home that they were to take care of. One set of emerald eyes met
those of its brown-eyed counterpart while their masters rested in silence to the
left and right of the front door, listening for any noise from within. No sounds
where to be heard, save for the light snoring of the inhabitants that slumbered
peacefully. With a satisfied nod that all was clear, the elf with the emerald
eyes leaned forward and reached out his hand to push upon the door. The
arrogance of the humans was clear, that the felt no threat from the elves, for
the door swung open silently.
No word,
no sound was exchanged between the two elves as they pressed forward into the
darkness that settled within the house, yet their eyes would guide them as
though they were walking through it in broad daylight. With a swift gesture, the
elf that had obviously been in command issued a wave of his hand, signaling the
other to go off and find the children or others that slept within the house.
Having dispersed the other, this elf again turned his attention upon what he
believed to be the main bedroom. The house was not large, and thus it was easy
to assume where the �king of the castle� would sleep.
Peering
through the opened doorway, the elven�s eyes captured sight of two forms
slumbering peacefully within their beds. A moment of doubt flashed through his
mind, yet the words of Captain Lorelan whispered loud and clear� �The human
race is a disease, an infection..� The rhetoric was powerful, and it forced
the elf to bury all compassion and care for those that could not defend
themselves in their sleep. His steps into the room were deathly silent as he
approached the right side of the bed while drawing the blade of his dagger from
the sheath that dangled on his hip. In the blink of an eye, the hilt of the
dagger came crashing down upon the skull of the woman that slept soundly. The
blow did not crush her skull, but it would keep her unconscious until all the
others had been rounded up.
Feeling the effects of the blow to his lover, the human male sat
upright in the bed, blinking away the grogginess of sleep that lingered in his
eyes. Shifting his gaze slowly over to his wife, the man never once saw the
shadow that had moved just as quickly to his side of the bed. Within an
instance, the sharp blade of the dagger was poised at his throat, so close in
fact that if he made a startled cry the metal would bite into his flesh. Fear
and panic burned within the man�s eyes and heart, but that soon turned to
despair as a second shadowy form entered the bedroom and called out in elven to
report his findings from the other rooms, �There was only a young child� she
is bound in the common room.�
�Bind
his hands and feet� the woman is out cold and will remain so for a while.�
The captor called to his partner that
slipped over to the bed in a hurry. The words had been spoken in elven, and
though the man could not understand what had been said, he knew that his life
was over. It took little time for the second elf to bind the man, his hands and
feet, yet before they could gag his mouth, the man began to plead with his would
be executioners.
�Take
me� kill me... I don�t care� but please have mercy upon my wife� my daughter!
They have done nothing� nothing to you!! Spare the-� The
man�s words fell upon deaf ears, and were cut off in mid-sentence as the leader
of the pair smashed his fist into the man�s job, nearly knocking him out
cold.
�Where
was the mercy your kind showed upon my sister? You raped her, broke her body and
spirit� then cut her and left her to die. You sliced off her ears as a gesture
towards my people� to keep them as a trophy. Where was your mercy?�
The elven spewed forth in the accursed
human tongue, the anger and desire for revenge had boiled up so powerful that it
had caught him unaware that it had existed in such a strong force. Leaning down
towards the cowering man, Vashenthiel Silvermore stared deeply into his eyes as
he spoke, �This night we set an example to your kind. There will be no
mercy. And after you listen to your
wife and child die amongst the flames� I will cut off your rounded ears and keep
them as �my- trophy.�
Pulling
away from the man after he placed the gag upon his mouth, Silvermore looked to
Mirelis Longbow and gestured towards the woman. �Bind her, hand and foot,
there is to be no gag so that he can hear her cries. Once you are finished, take
her out into the common room with the daughter� douse them both with oil and set
it ablaze.� Reaching down, the
elven lieutenant grabbed the man by the scruff of the hair, pulling him to his
feet and marched him out in the common room. Yet while his journey was short to
the exit, he saw an image that would linger in his memory forever. Two wide,
innocent eyes peered up from the common room floor in fright. Tiny lips trembled
as the daughter of the couple called out in a soft, terrified voice, �Mommy�?
Mommy where are you?�
The eyes
of the innocent can haunt a man, yet the elf paid no more attention to such
concerns. The anger and pain of his own loss outweighed the morality of saving
the young girl from such a horrid fate. Thrusting the man through the front
door, Vashenthiel allowed him to trip over his own bound feet and fall hard upon
the ground. The man turned his head, struggled to do anything and everything to
save his family, but it was all in vain. Tears lined the corners of his eyes,
yet he could do nothing but watch as the fire that Mirelis had set began to
consume his house. The cries of his wife and child were too much to bear, and he
closed his eyes and awaited his own death.
That
death would come more slowly than he would have liked. The pain of having his
ears detached was nothing compared to the loss of his family, yet it was a
bitter reminder that war had come to the Isles of Myst. With blood flowing
freely down his hands, Vashenthiel looked down at what he had done� what he had
become. The ears of the man rested at his feet, a token of what had been taken
from his sister yet it did not bring back his own loss� it did not make him feel
any better. Disgusted at what he had done, disgusted at what he had become;
Vashenthiel lifted his blade to the man�s throat and ended it quickly, hoping in
part to bury this night� to end it as quickly as he possibly
could.
