Splinterlands Fantasy Story and Music Contest // Week 13 - Treason in flames

Treason in Flames

It had been days since his last meal, but the elf didn't slowed his pace once, since he ventured into the Burning Lands.

He knew he was off of his environment: arid lands, rocks and scattered trees replaced the evergreen woods he called home. But there was no turning back. Seeing the goblin was the last thing he wanted to do, but some questions needed answers. And he could only find them there.

He knew he was being followed, but although the fire people were fast... they weren't fast enough. Or smart enough. So he continued his path, straight to the village he visited once decades ago. And when he only a few miles away, and he was thinking about the best way to meet the shaman, he realised the answer was right there. Or better, behind him.

And so, he waited in a clearing. He sat and crossed his legs, and a faint smile showed in his face, as he heard the pursuing group taking positions all around him. As minutes passed by and no one showed his face, he decided to rush things up.

“You make more noise than a rexxie running in dry woods, ferexians.”

He got up, as the clearing filled with kobolds and fire dwarfs, armed to the teeth.

“And you are a long way from home... elf.”

The dwarf that spoke seemed to be the leader, and the last word was pronounced in an even harsher tone. It was no secret that elven were not liked in that part of the Splinterlands.

“Indeed. But I have no quarrels with you. I came to see your shaman, Ras'ul.”

“Ah! You have no quarrels with us?? The nerve! What stop us from sticking a sp...”

The younger kobold that spoke lost his voice, as a dagger flew from the elf's hand and passed inches from the kobold's head, getting stuck in the tree right next to him, before anyone could even make a move.

“The next one won't miss. As I said, I have no quarrels with you. Your shaman knows who I am.”

He felt the tension growing in the group, but he finally heard what he was hoping for, when the dwarf leader spoke.

“We will honour the peace, and take you to see the shaman. But you will surrender your knifes to us; and if you even sneeze harder than you should... no daggers will save you.”

---

And so he did. He surrendered the remaining seven daggers (keeping the 4 hidden ones), and surrounded and escorted by the group, to the village they went.

The village folks were swarming to the village streets, as the news of the elf's presence spread; most of them had never seen a lyverian before, let alone a sneaky elf.

The shaman's house was hazy from the smoke coming from a small fire, but as the group entered, the shaman knew who the visit was.

“You haven't changed a bit since the last time I saw you, Elvenil. What was it... 60 years ago?” And then he turned to the group. “Please leave us. I am not in danger, and there are things to discuss.”

Elvenil couldn't say the same about the shaman. He was only the shaman's son when they met, a young boy.

“64 years. Yes, time tends to be gentle on my kind.”

He paused for a couple of seconds, but decided to go straight to the point.

“Do you know why I'm here, Ras'ul?”

The shaman nodded his head.

“The crystal.”

“Yes. The dark one. The one filled with energy that you don't understand, and you can't control. The one that almost razed this village long before you were born. The one that returned here... again.”

A brief shadow crossed the shaman's eyes, as he interruped the elf's speach.

“Things are different now. Our knowledge of the crystal's powers evolved a great deal since then. And in these times, power is what we need.”

The elf sighed.

“Your great grandfather said the same, a few days before destroying half the village. I am 378 years, Ras'ul; I've met many shamans that thought they could control the crystals... never met on that succeeded. And I came to offer the same advice I offered him... and the one I gave to your father as well. Return the crystal to where it came. Because this time, it's wasn't only us that noticed the energy shift.”

“What do you mean?”

“Darker forces threatens the land, as you know... and they want power too.”

The shaman's face hardened.

“Let them come, they will be met with fire. I know you mean well... but things are different know. I consider myself advised. The night is upon us, and you're welcome to rest here at the village before returning where you came from.”

Elvenil began to open his mouth again, but realized, by the shaman's expression, that any discussion at that time was pointless. He nodded his head; he could use some rest, and maybe in the morning the shaman would be more receptive to talk.

It didn't go unnoticed, however, that none of his daggers were returned; nor the six ferexians that stayed in the vicinites of the small house, nor the location of the house, the last one of the village.

The elf's mind was racing as he was left alone. Several possibilities came to his mind... but there was one that made his spine shiver. Elven were known for their strong instincts, and from a very young age, they learned to trust them. And as the night settled, he realised that hard as it was... the possibity he dreaded the most, was also the most likely.

And if it was the case, there was no time to waste.

---

The exploding dwarfs did their job well. The house that housed the elf bursted in flames, from the outside to the inside, immediately blocking any chance of escape, and destroying everything inside.

The goblin shaman watched from a distance, as the flames flew into the skies. Fire always had a special charm... for some reasons that part of the world was called Burning Lands.

Slowly, he returned to his home. Up the stairs, into his room, where from a small chest from under his bed, he took the cause of the unfortunate accident moments ago into his hands. It was strange, how such a small stone could be the cause of such turmoil.

He felt the blood leaving his head as a sharp blade came in contact to his throat.

“Damn y...”

---

The elf's voice came out like a whisper.

“For all the time I travelled, I hoped to be wrong. And if weren't for that swift shadow crossing your eyes while we talked, your plan could have worked. Lyanna told me the Dark Contracts were far more spread into the Burning Lands that we could possibly imagine; I didn't listened to her then. After seeing the house you were so kind to prepare for me “accidentally” burst in flames, I had my confirmation.

“You'll never leave this village alive, elf. My brethen will find you and...”

Elvenil pressed the knife a little stronger.

“As they found me as I made my way to your village? Or when I left that house moments before it burned? They all think I'm nothing but ashes now. The only thing that keeps me from sending you faster to the destiny you chose, was the promise I made to the Spirits of the Forest to do no harm unless I had to. But a few things you need to remember about my brethen: we always keep one blade. We can sneak wherever we want to. And... we don't forget.

And with a swift blow, the elf knocked the shaman unconscious.

---

When the ferexians found the shaman tied in his room, the next morning, Elvenil was long gone. But not to the woods of Anumun, no. Khymians had long joined forces with the lyverians, and the White City of Khymeria had to be warned about the recent events. He knew they wouldn't believe him without proofs, but now he wasn't worried.

The crystal in his pocket would make sure the message would pass.

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