Master Caius handed me my best bow. “You ready for this, prince?” He said, his voice ancient and trembling. Master Caius was old, and the only Elven Elder left who had survived that treacherous fire. He had a waist high beard, white as snow, same as the hair that grew on his head, only this reached the forest floor. His eyes were gray and bright with knowledge. The wrinkles on his forehead was evident of his tires and worries over the years.
“Please, master Caius, I'd rather you call me Chris. It is bad enough that that girl Isis mocks me with my rightful title “prince.” Isis. The name burns my tongue, the same way she set fire to my village with that loathsome brother of hers, Zanem.
“Nemesis,” his voice still trembled, but out of disgust and hate. “Nemesis” was the name of the two killers, Isis and Zanem, combined. “should, and must die. You understand this, correct, Chris?”
“Of...of course, Master.” I couldn't help but stutter. Elves were not meant to talk of war and death and hate. We are peace-loving beings, who serve only to keep the Hidden Sanctuaries as it is. That is what the past Master Caius has taught me when I was but a little boy.
But I am now a grown man, and this is not the past where green was the ruler and servant to man. Unfortunately, tables have turned and man has turned greedy.
“Off you go, Prince Chris. And don't let me see any bruise on you when you get back!” He joked. Although, I sure do hope it was really a joke. Master Caius isn't one to take something lightly. I'd rather not get him disappointed.
I finally ran out of the forest, our makeshift home, and into the land of the unknown and horror; the city of man.
~0.0~
I can’t believe I just missed two sitting ducks.
It’s been a long day of running from those two. My heart’s pounding out of frustration. My head’s about to explode from all the traps that almost worked on me. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m at wits end.
“Boo.” An airy whisper of a playfully sadistic girl sent chills up my spine. I quickly turned my head to face two very different eyes. One was the shade of blue, deep and mysterious, the other: blood red. The only thing similar between them was its darkness.
I panicked. I crawled a few inches away. She pursed her pink lips and gave me an amused lopsided smile. She must’ve thought of me as a play thing!
“Aw, isn’t he just cute, Nemi?” She teased, not daring to look away from her target, who, unfortunately, is me. She bent over, hands on her white bare knees. “You look tired, Prince!”
“Isis!” A boy, about her age, looked at her – more like glared -- disapprovingly. “Where’s the ring?”
I absentmindedly reached out for the ring in my pocket. What did they want with an elven treasure? What did they want from my people's last proof of existence?
“Haven’t gotten to that part.” She said, obviously bored. It's hard to admit, but she's cute and playful, which is a terribly disturbing description for someone who wants to kill me.
“Well, get to it! It’s bad enough that we took all day to capture him.” His voice pitching higher as his anger rose.
“Oh boo-hoo for you. Let me play!” She faced Zanem, “Nemi's” real name, a name I'd rather use than a silly little girl's nickname. Looking at those two was almost like looking at a mirror image. They both had golden blonde hair; Isis's was at shoulder length, her side bangs stayed put with the help of two black clips; Zanem's was an unruly mess. Their lips were both thin and pinkish, although Isis's were shinier. And of course, their eyes. The pair each of them had wore different colors, not wanting to match each other. But, as I said before, they shared the same darkness, same icy stare.
“We've played enough, Isis!”
“No, I say when we're done!”
If I was an idiot, I would've stayed for a while longer.
I reached up and grabbed the railing. I pulled myself up and did the most silent back flip I could perform, facing the three-storey jump the idiot inside of me wanted me to make.
“Hey! Prince, come back here!” Isis' playful voice beckoned to me. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tempted. I shook my head. The voice is just an illusion.
Zanem snapped me out of my trance as he kept screaming demands that he himself could do. I braced myself and jumped.
I reached out for the single arrow that was hanging from my belt. I aimed it to one of the fabric canopies that stood on the second storey of the building in front of me. It flew straight with a rope trailing behind. As it came in contact, ripping through the cloth, it changed shape. Four spider leg-like claws sprouted from the tip. They bent into boomerang like structures, until the whole thing resembled to that of a grappling hook.
The grappling hook circled the metal bar of the canopy. Its rope wrapped itself around the metal bar, securing tightly as I fell to my near death.
I grabbed the rope that was almost too far from my reach. I was swinging through the park like a madman, but who cared? I felt the wind on my face. The butterflies were calming into a deep slumber in my stomach. I was free from those two, even for just a while.
As my feet touched the ground, I looked back to where Isis and Zanem should have been. Much to my expectation, they were gone.
I pulled twice on the rope and the arrow came gracefully falling down on my hand. I secured it on my belt. I made a run for the park's mini-forest.
I ran until I reached a small stream to where, I believe, was deep enough for nobody to catch me. I looked up to the sky. A beautiful dance of pink and orange and red played in front of my eyes. Though the sun was just about to rest, the pretty moon was taking its place in the sky.
I sat down beneath a tree near the stream and suddenly realized how tired I was. I put on my fake square glasses, and my weapons started to vanish. My back was relieved of the weight of my bow and quiver. My sword left my side. The only weapon I now hold was a tiny dagger, a ceremonial one at that. Still, I did not mind. War was not meant for an elf like me.
