Capítulo 64: Chapter 10
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***
She was walking through the forest, for the past day now, she was angry with herself and the world.
Her siblings had betrayed her and driven her from her home because of a slander. And who was it that had brought this slander on her? The one she had almost prayed to, the one she had sworn to protect and love as her own mother. Queen Aenid had betrayed her when she had preferred the truth that her loyal servant had obtained the hard way, and she had retaliated by ordering her to keep silent and forget about that information, the massacre of an entire elven settlement in Temeria, which was not in the traitor's report.
Aenniweddien did not want to give up and for days she had been urging her to react, at least in the Chapter, of which she had been a long time member, not to mention that she had connections in all the kingdoms. But her pleas were not heeded.
After some thought, the true patriot decided to disclose this information not only to her ruler, but also to the only Vedanya she knew, Ida, who was a distant relative of hers, as well as to a couple of other advisors.
And as a result, they betrayed her as well.
Aenniweddien was imprisoned, and a month later she was summoned to the one she already hated with all her heart. She was not executed, as Aenniweddien was still considered quite young, almost a child for the customs of the elves. So they gave her a choice between death or exile.
She chose the latter.
And now she was in her fourth month of wandering through forests, mountains, and villages in a southerly direction to get as far away as possible from the lands she had once considered her homeland.
She had travelled at least a hundred miles from Yaruga, but she could not say exactly how many. Here she avoided human settlements, hoping just south beyond Belhaven (where she had once been with Ida, accompanying her and guarding her in secret negotiations) to turn east and reach another part of her people who lived separate from their brethren in the Blue Mountains, Dol Blatan, and separate territories in the human kingdoms.
A little more and she would reach him, at least she thought so. Halfway through the mountains and walking along the river, she heard, thanks to her keen hearing, the sounds of battle.
In the past she would have bypassed the unnecessary fighting, but this time she wanted to see who was fighting who.
What if it was elves on one side and humans on the other? Then she would step in and help the local elves.
She perched herself on top of the slope of the hill and saw that near the small stream that flowed into the river that was bigger a real massacre had broken out and only humans were fighting. Aenniweddien grimaced and thought she had come up here for nothing, but then she looked closely and was not so much surprised as horrified by what her eyes saw.
Two different groups of intelligent people were against each other. There were at least five dozen people in one of them, outlaws, and they were well armed. And against them were four men. Two of them by their appearance and habits, as well as by the style of fighting were obviously Skelligs, one was a mage, but did little, just took away the enemy's archers with spells and that's all. And the fourth...
The fourth member of this group was strange. Firstly, it was a young boy with a sword as black as night, dotted with silver-coloured Runes. Secondly, this young man handled the sword better than many of her kin that had given more than a year of their lives to it. Thirdly, this young man who ruthlessly chopped down his opponents used magic with incredible agility and speed.
His fighting style was clearly not improvisation, but an elaborate style that the elf had yet to see from other wizards. Some wizards use staffs or some artefacts for combat, but swords are mostly foreign to them.
This one is actively using swordsmanship and spells, and it seems that he uses them through the sword. Perhaps the elf was wrong about that. But from the outside it looked that way.
And the most terrible thing was that Aenniweddien saw how this young man with a smile and delight cut with his sword, crushed skulls with blows of fists, roasted living people with spells and tried to kill as much as possible.
The fight was over in just a few minutes, they sent almost five dozen people to the other world, only a few mutilated people were left alive, two Skelligans: a girl and a man also had a few corpses, but most of them were killed by that blond.
He was dressed in simple and comfortable clothes in brown and white tones, only a little added scarlet colour from the blood of his opponents, his blond beautiful hair was grown out and tied in a small ponytail. And his bright happy face was just glowing with happiness and excitement.
- Thirty. - snorted the blonde girl. - You killed thirty people faster than Baldur, Istredd and I would have done it ourselves.
- I'm very fast. - The young man smiled at her in a different, softer way.
- Don't always be in a hurry, especially with women. They don't like too fast. - The blonde quipped and began to clean the blood from her sword.
- I can prove that in this respect I'm not fast and I'll satisfy anyone.
- I'm not anyone. - snorted.
- Shall we test it?
- Checker didn't grow up. I want men, not boys like you, even if you have a big cock.
- She made you Damian. Face it. Sometimes there are women you can't control no matter how hard you try. - the second magician spoke to him.
- Where is he? Where did he go? - wondered the already bulky Skelligean.
- I don't know, he was here a few moments ago. - The blonde slammed her eyes shut.
- He used illusions. - said the mage.
- For what?
- Not for what, but for whom.
At that moment the pixie felt someone behind her. She reached for an arrow and tried to turn around as they flew out of the quiver and landed with her dagger and sword a dozen metres away from her.
The elven woman herself was crushed to the ground after the spell.
A couple of seconds later, light almost silent footsteps sounded behind the paralysed woman and she was rolled over onto her back. It was the young man who had killed most of the bandits.
He leaned over her, smiling, and then she saw his eyes. Violet ones that shone from the overabundance of magic and feelings he was experiencing. The blood was still coursing through him. And the representative of the Elder People could say goodbye to her life right now. She was already sure that he would rape her first, and then kill her, and maybe change the order. In those mad eyes and smile she recognised what followed in most people afterwards - an extraordinary cruelty and indifference to their victim if she had already ceased to entertain them.
Aenniweddien realised that she was in more trouble than she had ever dreamed of. After all, this young man is only a seemingly innocent boy, she has already seen him in action and she sees him now one on one and what splashes in those pools.
- And what is the name of such a beautiful stranger? - he spoke suddenly affectionately, flicking a strand of hair off her forehead.
- It's a name you couldn't say, Dh'oine, even if you wanted to.
- How do you know I wouldn't be able to say it? - he inclined his head closer. - You say it, and I'll repeat it out loud right now. There are no impossible tasks for me - difficult and complicated yes, but not impossible.
The elfess smiled slightly and decided to play along with this butcher for now.
- Aenniweddien. What do you think? - For a moment, it seemed to the elven girl that some recognition or something similar flashed in the young man's eyes. But only for a moment, after a second, he only smiled, and even wider and nastier (to her).
- Hmm. I thought it would be really something complicated: Aenniweddien, Aenniweddien, Aenniweddien, Aenniweddien, Aenniweddien, Aenniweddien, Aenniweddien....
He repeated her name with a stony expression for a minute while the elfess marvelled at it.
- Wait! I believe..." she stammered, unsure how to continue the conversation with him, but the blond continued it for her on his own.
- Also, my name is Damian. Damian of Vengerberg, not Dh'oine.
- You're human, which means...
- I'm one-eighth elf.
- Only an eighth. - she snorted, daring.
- But an elf.
- You're an elf like I'm a bird. - The pure-blooded elfess was indignant.
- What makes you think you're an elf and I'm a Dh'oine? Could it be the other way round? I'm an elf and you're just a Dh'oine?
- That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life! - the dark-haired girl said indignantly.
- It's easy to prove! - Damian grinned. - I have a document and a diploma with the right to travel in the territory of the Nilfgaard Empire, and there it is indicated my racial belonging and that I am an eighth elf. What proof do you have?
- I'm an elf! Pureblood! Do you have a problem with your eyesight? I have ears!
- I have ears, too, so what? Even forest animals have them, but that doesn't make them elves. - he looked at her like she was crazy.
- I have pointy ears! And I'm also beautiful. - She blushed with anger and tried to think of something else to prove her origin. - Why are you smiling?
- Well," Damian said, studying the elf from head to toe. - You're not ugly, yes. But not a beauty queen, that's for sure. You have a purely subjective opinion and inflated self-esteem. And ears aren't an indicator. The lowlanders have pointy ears, too. But they're not elves. But you're not even a lowlander. - he smiled mockingly. - Maybe you're a mutant. - Aenniweddien was boiling with anger again and prayed to all the gods to give her the strength to take it. - 'No, not a mutant, though. I've already scanned you a bit and realised that you're fine with it. Right! Your parents must have pulled your ears a lot when you were naughty, right? Yeah, that's right!
- Are you kidding me?! - screamed the pixie trying to burn the insolent man with her eyes.
- No, I have seriously solved the riddle of your unusual, almost elven ears. You were just dragged by your ears, they stretched out, so you look remotely like an elf, even the bow and arrows elven from somewhere pulled out. Well done!
- And what do you think I am if I'm not an Elf?
- You're pure-blooded Dh'oine, who else?! - Damian replied as if nothing had happened, looking her straight in the eye.
-...
- Why are you so quiet?
The man was mocking her, and she knew it in her gut; she was not fooled by the simple-mindedness and "surety of her rightness," but her feelings wouldn't let her keep quiet like that.
- Who are you then?
- I'm a real Aen Seidhe, that's what I am. Just with a little more human blood in me.
Aenniweddien didn't know what to say. No one had ever dared to call her Dh'oine and claim that he was a member of an ancient race, just with 'slightly' diluted blood.
"He's either a genius or a madman!" - Aenniweddien decided for herself, in regards to him.
- Ha ha ha ha ha ha! - only now she noticed that all the companions were laughing amicably, unable to stand their dialogue. They had already finished downstairs what they were doing, and were now heartily amused at Damian's mocking of the poor elfess.
- As I was saying. - Damian ignored them. - I'm an elf and I can prove it, can you prove on paper that you're right?
- No. It's impossible, we elves usually don't have any documents to prove that we are... we are. We've never needed it in our lives!
- Hmm. Until you can prove you're an elf, you're just a Dh'oine. Understand?
Already freed from the magical bonds by Damian's hand, the elf stared at him dumbly, unable to say a word about how amazed she was by such a... mishap. And after all, if one looked at the logic, there was no proof of her origins. It would be like calling a Redan peasant a Temerian peasant, and the latter couldn't prove his real nationality because he didn't have such documents.
There she is. Dh'oine.
- Are you here alone, by the way? - Damian asked without laughing as he telekined her sword, dagger, and arrows.
She silently accepted them without trying to start a fight or be rude. Somehow... she was tired lately, not to mention the headache from the "revelation" Damian had told her.
- Yeah.
- Really? Where are you from?
- From... the Blue Mountains, once was... now I'm an exile.
Aenniweddien didn't realise why she was telling so many people so much, but eventually she told them a little about who she was, and when Istredd and Damian took it in turns to invite her to sit by the fire and eat some of Baldur's roast wild boar, she finally told them about her past.
Before she knew it, she had accepted the invitation to stay in their temporary camp for the night with gratitude and even a certain ordinariness.
In the morning she woke up and in conversation with the only woman in their strange company she learnt that they were on their way to Toussaint, but met by chance yesterday a gang of people who had once been part of the defeated Nilfgaard Methinna, but in the course of time and political reforms they had refused to accept the new power and had gone underground, and because of the good work of the Empire's secret services they had been forced to leave the Methinna territory far away and ended up here. This was told to them by one of the survivors.
Damian and Bella had heard about them back in Belhaven and a good reward was promised for the heads of these bandits and former Metinna fighters, so they decided to return there for a short time and turn in their heads and captives to the authorities.
Almost immediately, Iskra, as Bella had begun to call her with a light hand from Aenniweddien herself, who explained what her name meant, received an offer to ride with them. They had a couple of horses to spare, and it was more fun and interesting together.
The elf was not against such company, the main thing was not to hear from the insolent boy his accusations that she was a human and not an elf.
A couple of days later they were already in Blaviken.
She wondered how she had quickly become attached to this group of people and such an irritating character as Damian of Vengerberg. Though he didn't call her Dh'oine hardly ever in conversation anymore. And she was already ready to forget about that incident. But the casual conversation between two of her Nilfgaard 'kin' that she had overheard disappointed her.
If we leave out all the details and nuances, she realised from their conversation that despite the distance and some cultural and historical differences, her blood brothers here would not accept her. And if they did, they'd probably kick her out as soon as they found out, and they would, that Marguerite of the Valley and her circle had personally kicked her out of their ranks for good. And I don't care what she tells them. Who would believe her?
Despondency swept over Spark with renewed vigour. And it was the strange young man who helped her out of this sadness. He was a monster for her not because of the bandits he had killed, but because of his monstrous logic and sense of humour.
Alcohol, soulful conversation, philosophy and various topics with the addition of all the same alcohol made Spark forget about the past and enjoy the present.
Damian had sincerely suggested that she follow along with them as a mate. And she had agreed.
She didn't want to die alone. She didn't want to be alone, unable to talk about anything with anyone. She was agreeable even to this strange company, which she joined.
After a couple of days in Blaviken, she and the four people had travelled north together. And where exactly she didn't even recognise, she didn't care now.
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