The Elf Thief

Chapter 50: A Battle of the Broken

Chapter 50

A Battle of the Broken 

            Sonya knelt down on the mud, wet and grimy from blood. Touching the ground, she then rubbed her fingers together, feeling the texture of the dirt against her skin. Beneath her the battle raged on, but up on the ramparts only an almost sickeningly sweet mixture of blood, dirt and dust kept her company, that and the body of a dying elf next to her.

            A hand reached up and grasped her forearm with an iron grip, nails digging into her leather wrist-guard.

            “Sonya,” a gasp escaped the dying elf as recognition passed across his features. “Sonya, look at me!”

            She did not even glance at his face. Instead she continued to gaze out at the battle before her.

            A violent cough finally drew her gaze towards him. “Why did you do it, Remaduce?” she asked softly.

            He chuckled humorlessly. “The elves never stood a chance,” he wheezed. “We were always doomed to fail.”

            Shaking her head in disbelief, Sonya stood. “You were wrong,” she said venom in her voice. “We will win this war. We will win it and we will change the world.” When she laughed, she was surprised by the harshness in her voice. “Too bad you will not live to see it.”

            “Sonya!” Remaduce choked as she walked away. “Sonya, I am your brother!”

            She didn’t even look back as she said, “My brother died long ago, protecting me. You are not my brother.”

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            Ventar hummed in Dearekk’s hand as he stalked through the courtyard. It was hauntingly familiar, and it seemed as if nothing had changed since he left. The only difference was that the entire castle seemed to be completely empty.

            He saw something out of the corner of his eye and whirled around, his sword ready. Leaning up against the wall, inspecting a jet-black sword was the man who had raised Dearekk.

            “Hello, Dearekk,” the King said, his voice surprisingly nonchalant, as if he were greeting a passing by friend.

            Raising his sword, Dearekk spat back, “Hello, father.”

            A chuckle escaped the King. “Now, now, son. There is no need for hostilities.” He paused, looking around for a moment. “No one was supposed to make it past the ramparts, let alone into the castle. Bellada must not be doing her job properly.”

            “She’s dead,” was Dearekk’s short reply.

            “Well isn’t that a shame.”

            “Not really. She tried to kill me.”

            The King roared with laughter. “Believe me boy, if she wanted you dead, you’d be dead. There must have been more…pressing matters on her mind.”

            A knot of anger grew in Dearekk’s chest and Ventar began to glow brighter in his hands. “I didn’t come here to exchange formalities,” he all but hissed.

            “I suspected you didn’t,” the King replied with a sigh. He ran his hand along the edge of his black blade. “I see you have Ventar, the Sword of Mist and Flame. It is an impressive blade, but nothing compared to Suneater.”