The Heart & The Heir

Chapter 2

A woman's scream broke the spell, waking Azkin with a jolt. The scream came again, quickly muffled. Then several male voices filtered through the branches, their words lost on the wind.

Peeking his head through the brush, Azkin saw three men and a woman.

Probably highwaymen, the worst kind of human.

One stood behind the woman, holding her tight against him, a hand wrapped around her mouth—no, not a woman, an Elven girl. While one man rooted through her bag and glowered at her, a blade to her throat.

The man holding her suddenly howled in pain. Pulling his hand from her mouth, he cried, "She bit me."

"Do you know what we do to your kind in these parts?" the one with the knife asked.

"Go to hell," she spat.

"If you're a good little elf, and let us have some fun, we'll let you leave with your life," he taunted.

The one holding her by the arms chuckled, replying, "Yeah, and maybe a half blood bastard too, if you're lucky."

The girl thrashed in her captor's arms. "If you keep this up, I'll gut you here and now, leaving your body for the crows." He sneered in her face. She instantly stilled, her throat bobbing as her mind wrestled with the choice.

Groaning inwardly, Azkin slinked from his hiding place, creeping his way undetected through the underbrush.

Plucking a stone, no bigger than the size of a plum, he hurled it effortlessly, with deadly accuracy, at the head of the man restraining the girl. Ducking behind a tree the moment the stone left his fingers. The man crumbled to the ground, dragging the girl down with him.

The man with the knife whirled around, his eyes scanning the seemingly innocuous forest, not exactly certain where the hit came from. "Sven," he hissed.

"What?" the other grumbled, with his head buried in the girl's sack. "You two have your fun without me."

"Sven," the one with the knife snapped. "Heads up." At that, Sven dropped the bag with a loud clang as it hit the ground, his head popping up, alert and at the ready.

"What do you figure?" Sven asked. "One?"

"Yeah."

"Where?" Sven asked, pulling a rather long dagger from his boot as he rose to his feet.

"I'm not sure."

Azkin plucked another stone from the ground, a little bigger than the first. With a quick flick of his wrist, he fired the stone through the air, nailing Sven in the temple. He, too, collapsed to the ground in an unconscious heap.

The man with the knife kicked the big guy off the girl, hauling her to her feet, and pressed the tip of his blade to her throat, while using her as a human shield. "Show yourself," he demanded.

With a sigh, Azkin stepped out from behind the tree, his hands in the air, a small stone still clutched in the palm of his right hand. "Let the girl go," he said, his silken voice deceptively calm.

"Or what?" the man responded. "You take one more step closer and I'll open her throat. I swear to the gods." Tangling his fist in the girl's long silver hair, he tugged, exposing her throat. Shifting his grip on the knife, he pressed the sharp edge of the blade against her flesh.

"There are no gods here to save you," Azkin said, his voice low. He reached up, removing his cap, running his hands through his hair. The man sucked in a breath; his eyes locked on the tips of Azkin's ears. "I'm only going to ask you once to release the girl," Azkin insisted, replacing his cap.