Gifted [UNEDITED]

Chapter Seven

    The wind was rough. Howling and screaming, bouncing back and forth against the trees. The moon was out, white and full. Under the starless sky was the dark elf camp. Dark blue skinned elves trooping in and out of tents, some carrying weapons, some just weaponless. Around the camp was a wall, made out of bamboo sticks, the dark elves needed no protection in The Dark glades. It was their home, and has been for more than two hundred years.
   
    "The plan against the High elves is going well", Zorath said to his commanders. He was tall, with a white goatee and a full moustache, he had on his back a long white sword that never stopped glowing.
   
    "When do we attack?", one of the commanders asked. He was young, about twenty years old. He was of a thin body build, his hair was dark green, and his eyes were blue. His cheekbones were very visible, and he had a fairly pointed nose.
   
    "Soon Irial, soon. We need to have absolute assurance from our insiders in Miaddra before we attack."
   
    There was silence, the commanders had nothing more to say. Zorath pushed back his blonde hair, his red eyes fixed on the map. His hard fingers ran across the map, pointing out the Miaddrian borders and the strong walls that protect them.
   
    "This wall is the weakest", he said pointing at the Eastern borders. "The Middrians have more soldiers here."
   
    "But the Western borders have strong walls...", one of the commanders said.
   
    "So there are fewer soldiers here", Zorath completed.
   
    The commanders stood up one by one, gave their respects and left. Irial waited behind on Zorath's command.
   
    "My boy", he started. "I know you're eager to fight the High elves. I know they have wronged you and your family."
   
    "Yes sir, but..."
   
    "I understand. I understand perfectly well", Zorath said, handing him a cup of wine. "I am eager too. But my motive is not revenge driven, I want change. The traditions and the cultures of those savages sicken me."
   
    "They took everything away from me. My father, my mother, and my sister. Everything."
   
    "Yes. I know. I remember when you came to The Dark glades, you were only fifteen. You begged me to take your soul and make you a dark elf. I did it, not because it would make me powerful. But I did it because I saw myself in you." Zorath looked at him, he saw the tears welling up like fresh blood oozing from a fresh wound.
   
    "I have collected more souls than I can count", he continued. "This was not the initial plan you know. I wanted to change the world as we knew it, I wanted the High elves to have a different nature. But the experiment went wrong, and I became who I am today. When my skin turned blue, the Council, not the one they have now, the Council two hundred and fifty years ago decided I was a threat. Because I preached about change, they tagged me a danger to society. So they sent me into this place, some of my followers came, and little by little we grew. Till today some High elves who need change sneak out the wall to come here."
   
    Irial moved his thumb uneasily around his lap. He wondered why Zorath was telling him this, he felt so cold. This was unusual, he hardly paid attention, his heartbeat was hastened, and that was where his attention was.
   
    "Are you listening?" Zorath asked. His cold face pierced the young elf, his coarse voice gave Irial goosebumps.
   
    "Yes... Yes sir... I... am", he answered.
   
    Zorath smiled and sipped his drink, "we'll continue this discussion another time."
   
    "No sir, I am listening", Irial protested.
   
    "Another time. It's not you, it's me. I need to rest. Take some dark elves and scout the borders, see if there has been an increase in their numbers."
   
    The elf was slow to leave, but finally he did. The night was cold, the wet smell of the wind mixed with the dry grounds filled the air. Irial walked slowly towards his elk, some other dark elves followed him. He had called them almost immediately he left Zorath's tent.
   
    The ride through the forest was a quiet one. The only things that could be heard were the chirping birds, the oots of the owls, and occasionally the caws of the hawks. None of the other dark elves dared speak to Irial.
   
    The tall trees with scarce branches and leaves were all around the forest. The border was close now, only a few minutes away.
   
    "Are we there yet?", one of the elves asked. She was a new recruit and didn't understand Irial, she was of average height, her eyes were gold, sun gold. She looked at him waiting for an answer.
   
    Irial stopped and looked back, "what did you say?", Irial asked in a tone that spelled trouble.
   
    The dark elf was silent, she didn't say anything else. She patted her brown hair twice, wondering what she did wrong.
   
    "Let's leave our elks here," he said finally. "We're close, and the animals will give away our position."
   
    Under the hill which they stood was the wall of the Western borders. White and unstained, there was no way around. It looked like the wall stretched forever and ever. The only way in was up, and the wall stood tall, it looked like it would touch the sky.
   
    The battlements revealed Miaddrian soldiers standing on parapets high up above the ground. If ever the enemy was to make it over the wall, there was no way of getting down. The soldiers would cut the elevator lines and sacrifice their lives.
   
    "There are fewer soldiers than before. I wonder why?"
   
    "The festival is close. Some soldiers are being called back into the city for security and order." The brown haired elf answered.
   
    Irial looked at her, there was a look of disbelief. His eyes widened a bit and he cocked his head. "When did you become a dark elf?"
   
    "Only recently."
   
    "I see. I see, and what's your name?"
   
    "Izarra."
   
    Irial grabbed her by her neck as quickly as she said her name. He brought her close, so that they were looking eye to eye. Izarra was shaking in her dark leather armor.
   
    "Listen to me. Don't you dare speak to me ever again, unless I speak to you. Do you understand?"
   
    Izarra's face had turned purple. She nodded immediately her superior asked the question.
   
    He let her go slowly, suddenly remembering his younger sister. The Miaddrian soldiers had raped and killed her, right in front of him. Right after they killed his parents, they had gorged out their eyeballs before killing them.
   
    What wrong had his family done? His father was brother to the High Councillor at the time. He had no interest in the leadership or politics of the country. But they still wanted him dead, Gnarim had set his soldiers upon him and his family like one would set dogs on a prey.
   
    "Let's check the other wall, it's the stronger one. So there'll be fewer soldiers there too."
   
    The distance between the two walls was a long one. There was really no need to check the second wall, the other dark elves knew this. But, yet again. They dared not question Irial.
   
    He had found favor in Zorath's eyes, and the latter had taught him some secrets, and even made him commander at a young age. For this reason, Irial carried himself with a certain pride that was bad for him, but good for his name.
   
    The hooves of the elks patted softly against the stony ground as they walked. The moon's shine was still as bright as when it first came out, maybe even brighter.
   
    "I'm sorry." Irial blurted. Everybody stopped, the two other elves looked at themselves in disbelief.
   
    "It's fine. I should have known."
   
    "Should have known what?"
   
    "That you are a monster."
   
    "And you're not?" There was silence again.
   
    "I'm not. My reasons for being here are way different from yours," Izarra told him.
   
    Irial scoffed, "How do you know my reasons are different?"
   
    "You're here for revenge. I saw it in your eyes when you strangled me. But I'm here... I'm here because... Because I needed a new path."
   
    "And this is the right path? Izarra, you're going to have to kill innocent elves. Elves you don't know! And that's a new path?! Please, you're no different from me."
   
    "I am."
   
    "Don't make me strangle you again."
   
    Izarra bowed her head in shame, she didn't want to stop arguing. But he was more powerful, he could end her in minutes if they fought.
   
    Out of the silence came another voice, one of the others this time. A younger dark elf, of average height, bright blue hair, and deep blue eyes.
   
    "Why you always got to feel like The Celestial King?" he asked.
   
    Irial didn't bother to stop. He considered such outbursts normal, and belittling to answer to them.
   
    "I asked a question... Sir."
   
    "What are you doing? He'll kill you," the other elf warned him.
   
    "Leave him be, he wants answers," Irial said, halting his elk and turning around. "So boy, you want to know why I always got to feel like The Celestial King." Irial drew his sword, "why don't we find out."
   
    The elf who looked no older than seventeen clenched his fist, and almost suddenly it was ice cold. The ice was like an oversized boxing glove on his hand. He threw his hand towards Irial, and the fist shaped ice was suddenly flying towards Irial.
   
    Irial cut the iced piece with the speed of light. "Try again," he urged the elf. There was a sinister smile on his face, only half of his teeth could be seen.
   
    The elf put both his fists together, and threw a bigger piece. Again Irial cut the piece down. 'How is he cutting my pieces so quickly? They should be hitting him before I even breathe after throwing them,' the elf thought.
   
    "I can see you're perplexed. Let's use our fists shall we?", Irial said, sheathing his sword and dismounted his elk. He had noticed the elf's perplexed face, he knew he was thinking.
   
    The elf scardily dismounted his elk. His hands were visibly shaking, and his breathing had become slightly rapid. He knew what he had gotten into. When his legs hit the ground, it felt like they hit him back because he fell at first.
   
    "Stand up boy. Fight me. Don't you want answers anymore?"
   
    "Please, I'm sorry. Please forgive me," the elf begged. He was still on the hard forest ground, his bottom against it.
   
    Irial would have none of it, he moved towards the boy and smacked him. He made him stand, and handed him a sword. "Now, come on. Hit me. Hit me boy. I need to answer your question." There was rage in his voice, sarcarstic rage.
   
    "Please let him go. You have proved your point," Izarra begged for the poor elf. She knew what he had gotten himself into.
   
    "Yes. I have proved my point. But don't you want me to prove your point?", Irial asked rhetorically.
   
    The elf was up now, others watched from their elk. He was sweating, small balls of salt ran down his face, his palms were very wet. He couldn't even hold the sword with a firm grip.
   
    He swung the sword as quickly as he could, hoping to catch Irial offguard. But the latter always wheeled out of the way at the last minute.
   
    'He's too fast. Faster than light! I can't do this. I'm tiring out,' he thought. "I said I am sorry. Please I'd never do it again. I'd do whatever you want," he said to Irial. He started crying, he threw the sword away and fell to the floor again.
   
    Irial dragged him by his shirt to a tree. He held him up, and punches him in the gut. Eight punches in half a second. The others couldn't even see his hands, he was too fast. There was no chance for the elf to even cough.
   
    "You're gonna kill him!," Izarra bursted.
   
    Irial stopped immediately he heard. He looked at the elf, blood was oozing from his mouth. "Oh! Celestial King!," he exclaimed. "I don't want to kill him," he said. Izarra and the other elf heaved a heavy sigh of relief. "I don't want to kill him, not like this," Irial finished.
   
    He smiled and put the boy on his shoulder. He took a few steps backwards and ran into a tree, holding the elf in front of him. The tree broke, and he ran into another tree in the same second. In about five minutes, he had run into about fifty trees.
   
    Now the elf was dead. When Irial ran back to the others, with the dead elf on his shoulder, he ordered the other elf to take him back to camp.
   
    "You're a monster," Izarra told him in disgust. She squeezed her face so that the skin between her right eye and her nose formed a twist.
   
    "I know. I proved your point. Isn't that what you wanted? Is that what you wanted to know. You're satisfied now, I'm sure," Irial replied.
   
    "Why'd you do it? He already said sorry, you didn't have to kill him."
   
    "I did to teach a lesson. An unforgettable lesson."
   
    "I think he already learned his lesson. He's young, he spoke out of turn. That didn't deserve death."
   
    "The lesson was not for him. It was for you."
   
    Izarra looked at him, her eyes were fixed, unmoving. She couldn't believe Irial killed the elf just to teach her a lesson. When she snapped out of her trance, she asked, "what lesson?"
   
    "Never let a disease grow on you. When it does, it becomes hard to kill."
   
    After inspecting the other wall, the two returned to camp. There was no talk, silence was a third party. Irial never bothered, he loved the silence that trailed after them, Izarra had a lot more to say, but she was afraid.
   
    At camp, the news had already spread. When Irial entered all eyes were on him, as his two companions strode passed the crowd with him. The striding was slow and steady, he wanted them to see his face very clearly. The burning camp fires made the air around a little stuffy.
   
    "If I had let the disease grow. These faces would have looked at me different," he told Izarra.
   
    She didn't answer. He didn't expect one, he merely told her to buttress his point. He went to Zorath's tent to report what he had seen at the borders, while Izarra went to her own tent.
   
    "I heard what happened. You did well, you have learned the lesson I taught you well," Zorath commended Irial when he entered his tent.
   
    "Yes sir. I have, I remember all your lessons sir," Irial replied.
   
    "Very good. You learn fast, that's what I like about you," Zorath said patting the latter on the back.
   
    Irial remembered all the lessons. Most especially this one. Zorath had taught him this lesson a few years ago. That day at camp, one of Zorath's commanders had challenged him in front of the entire dark elf force. Zorath had beaten him to a pulp, and when the latter begged for forgiveness Zorath merely pushed his fists through his throat.
   
    That was the first time Irial heard the words, and as he grew in rank, he saw the importance of the lesson. It had been his motto anytime anyone would challenge him.
   
    "How was the inspection. What's new at the walls?"
   
    "The soldiers at both walls have reduced in number. The High elves festival is close so some of them have been called into the city for security."
   
    "Very good. You're smart too, you figured out why already."
   
    There was a moment of silence, Irial paused before answering. He shook his head lightly and said, "Yes sir. I did."
   
    "Now would be the perfect time to finish our story. Grab some bottles and two cups."
   
    Irial stood up from his chair and went to the small table in the left corner of the tent. He took two cups in one hand, and two bottles in another. He smiled as he sat down and placed the items on the table.
   
    "Irial. I love you as one would love a son. I have never had a son. I had a wife once, but she died. Rather, they killed her," Zorath started, pouring a drink for himself. He had already taken one bottle to his side of the table.
   
    "I too love you like a father sir. My father gave me much love, but you gave me love and lessons with it. I'm so sorry about your wife," Irial replied. He already had his cup filled, he downed the cup immediately after the sentences dropped from his mouth. Conversations like these needed alcohol to lighten the mood.
   
    "I am the first dark elf. And this responsibility requires much sacrifices. I have deprived myself of many things. I have no wife, no lover, for love is a poison in this game I'm playing. I loved once, and it cost me a lot...", he couldn't wait to finish, he sipped from his cup as if to taste. Then drank it so fast that even Irial was shocked.
   
    "I have been carrying this burden for more than three hundred years now," he started again. "This burden of change, ever since I lost my wife. I wanted to change everything, the system was all to corrupt. My young beautiful wife, sent to the battle front. She was about your age, and I was about fifty. I can't remember very clearly."
   
    "Is this your wife the one you loved? That cost you a lot?", Irial asked, the innocence of five years ago returning to his face and voice.
   
    "Yes. She's the one. Beautiful she was, a Celestial being."