The backpack weighs heavily on Novi's shoulders as she and her two friends slowly make their way through the forest. The three young she-elves with no more than a few strands of white in their dark hair follow a path cut into the undergrowth. Broad enough for a cart to drive through, it leads east, towards the dragon kingdoms of Campestria, and will end where the Deep Wood of the dryads begins. They are all clothed in loose dresses sold to them by a dragon merchant. Even though they are less conspicuous than they would be wearing the makeshift fur and bronze armors their kind is known for, the kobold had warned them not to interact with any patrols. Legion or otherwise.
A way down the path, they spot a human. A man wielding a bow and wearing a leather jacket over a brown shirt and gray pants. A wooden arrow with an amber tip is nocked on his bowstring.
He spots them, but doesn't raise his weapon.
As the elves get closer, they see what the man is guarding. Ten other men are taking apart a camp, while two kobolds and one dark-skinned woman lie hogtied on the ground. Novi and the others can't help but watch.
The man notices their gaze. “Move along, elf-things. This is people business.”
Novi doesn't really care what they are doing, but being told to go away piques her interest and being called an elf-thing makes her anger boil up. Even though she feels the urge to rip the man’s throat out, she looks at his companions first. There are eleven of them, and even though Novi and her two friends all know some magic, these humans look well-armed and dangerous. If one of them is a mage, they would likely overpower the elves if they started a fight.
Her friend Tili just steps past her and purrs, “Excuse us, but we just like to watch men work. Especially hunky outlaws with swords and ropes.”
The man visibly relaxes and says, “Look, elf, I'm always up for a bit of fun, but we're busy right now. It's like I said. People business.”
Another human man walks over. He's dressed in the same brown clothes as the other but wields a bronze sword and an amber shield instead of a bow. “Who are they?”
The one with the bow says, “Just some horny elves. I was just telling them to get lost.”
“Is that so?” The man eyes the three elves carefully. Novi glares back, her eyes drilling into him as he looks her up and down. “Well, I think this people business might just become elf business too. Say, how would you three like to earn something?”
“Like what?” Novi asks.
The man shrugs and walks closer to them. The closer he gets, the more Novi has to tilt her head down to look at him. “Oh, I don't know. That depends on what you want. Some gold, some food, some information? Or maybe some hunky outlaws and booze is more up your alley. Ah, who are we kidding? We’d give you those last ones for free.”
Novi glares at him, greed, boredom, and curiosity overpowering her anger and hatred for the creatures in front of her. “What do you want?”
“Something really simple. I want three tall, yellow-eyed women to come along with this little band of mine and help us... persuade a few misguided folks. You see, there's a settlement of kobolds and kobold-lovers nearby. Just a few years old, but already some fifty critters strong. They’ve decided to take two of our boys prisoner. We just captured these three here and now we're going to march up there and persuade those yokels to release our friends. Maybe we can convince you fine elves to come with us. Just to make sure these people see the error of their ways without us having to spell it out in their guts.”
“Sounds simple enough,” Anselma says. "I'd say five gold units for us, plus that evening of food, booze and pleasant company you talked about.”
“You're overestimating your worth—” the man with the bow starts, but he's silenced by a wave from the other man.
“You look like fine elven warriors. But not that fine. One silver piece for each of you. And a few days of food and drink.”
Anselma looks at her three friends. Tili nods, but Novi turns to the man. “We'll take the silver and a few provisions and then we’re leaving. We're not your personal—”
Anselma cuts her off. "Relax, Novi. I know your mum is one of those ‘bah, no contact with humans, bah,’ but it's just a bit of carefree fun.” She turns back to the man. “Seems like you got yourselves three more muscles to intimidate with. Oh, and I'm looking forward to the food. We may look thin as saplings, but we can probably eat more than you.”
Tili snickers. “Probably weigh more too.”
The man turns away from them. “Perhaps. I gotta say, I really have a thing for women who can pull their weight.” He grabs one of the kobolds and throws the small creature over his shoulder. “Now let's get these fleabags back to that settlement. Hopefully their families are worried sick.”
They place the three captives on their horses.
While the man carrying the woman mounts, Anselma walks up to her. The dark-skinned human screams into her gag as the elf grabs her chin and inspects her with her yellow eyes. “Hmm! This human. I’ve never seen such dark skin. Is she from the south?”
The man shrugs. “I guess. There's been a lot of foreigners coming here in recent months to settle in the wilderness. I mean, I don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, but I don’t understand why. From what I’ve heard, the great desert cities are literal paradises on earth. You know, they don’t even need to build walls because there are no monsters in the desert.”
“Hmm. That sounds made up. Maybe she can tell us.”
The man scoffs. “Don’t bother. This one can only scream in their weird language and spit at you.”
The three elves jog along next to the humans on their horses.
Novi looks up at the man who seems to be leading the group. “So. What are you people?”
“Humans.”
“Obviously. I mean, what do you do? What are you doing here? Why did those settlers take your people prisoner?”
“We live here. Well, about a day's ride west of here. Just simple farmers and hunters who rob and plunder for a hobby. As for why they're holding our people, your guess is as good as mine. We found one of our boys, my cousin, dead, and after a bit of scouting found out it was them who did it. Jeremiah and Hosea are both idiots, but they're family. So we can't really leave them to their fate.”
Novi frowns. "If someone killed my mother or one of my sisters, I would murder everyone they know.”
"Yes and we thought about that, but you know. Why create a bloodbath if you don't need to? I mean, it makes sense for you – you can just eat the corpses and then you don't need to hunt, but most of us don't feel comfortable eating sentient creatures.”
“We don't like eating kobolds or humans either. We only do it if there's really nothing else. I heard kobolds taste like chewing on wood and you humans... you look too similar to us. It just feels wrong.”
"Wow. I never thought I'd hear a wild elf say they're uncomfortable with eating anything. Granted, I've never talked to a wild elf before, but still.”
“How did you know we're not from one of the Confederate cities or a nearby settlement?”
The man smiles. “It's the way you carry yourselves. Your posture, your figures, your expressions. You look like those people from the Association of Mages, or us, as a matter of fact. Walking through the forest like you own the place. Peasants don't do that and anyone with a keen eye can tell a thrall apart from a free man. Or in your case, a wild she-elf. Anyway, I heard your people are really into magic. Do you know any spells?”
“Several. I'm an apprentice life mage, Anselma one of frost and Tili one of light.”
“You use the novice, apprentice, adept, expert, master classification system from the Association? I would have thought you'd have your own thing.”
Novi scowls. “You are using the system we used in our old empire. In fact, the language you speak was taught to you by our ancestors.”
“I don't really care about history. It's one of those useless things that fills your brain, but doesn't help you with anything.”
Novi scoffs. “I don't like history either. It's just painful. I always hated it when my grandparents told me about the time before our empire fell.”
The man nods. “Yes. I'm far more interested in the present. Speaking of which, the settlement is up ahead.”
The path leads towards a few buildings at the base of a small mountain. There are a little over a dozen houses, most of them small log cabins. The largest building is a two-story log house with intricately carved guardrails surrounding the porch and the second-story balcony. A small river bends around the hill and cuts through the path leading towards the village.
Two human children are playing with several kobold children and a few kobolds sit next to the flowing water, washing clothes. They point at the incoming group of heavily armed humans and elves, and as soon as they spot the three prisoners, they drop everything and run.
The group marches over the bridge leading across the river. Someone has carved letters into a sign next to the road, but Novi has no idea what they say.
“Hellooo!” the man yells and draws his sword. “Anyone home? What do I need to do to talk to someone around here?!”
A kobold steps onto the porch of the large building. His fur is long and dark with caramel spots, and the only garment he's wearing is a pouch with a bandolier. With a heavy southern accent, he says, “Let our people go. Right now.”
"Of course. Just as soon as you give us back our people. I know they're here, so don't lie.”
Other townsfolk are coming out of their huts. To Novi's surprise, they are all armed with real weapons. Some even have metal helmets.
The kobold hesitates for a moment. “Let them go first.”
The man laughs. “Bring out my men and then we can exchange them.”
Several moments pass. The entire town has gathered. Novi counts five men and twelve kobolds. Three of the men have the same dark skin as the woman, and all are armed with amber swords and wooden shields, or bows.
The man's gaze moves over the gathered townsfolk. “Quite the militia you have here. But no one needs to die. Just give us our men and you'll not only get your people, but we'll never see each other again.”
The kobold's eyes flick to each of them in turn, before he finally says, “All right. Here you go.” He pulls a few objects out of his pouch and throws them on the ground. They're small pieces of pottery, each about the size and shape of an egg. “That's them. At least, what's left of them. I sacrificed them and turned the pitiful amounts of energy I was able to extract into these runes. Unless you want to share their fate, you will release my people and walk away. Like the pitiful bandits you are.”
The leader of the bandits stares at the pieces of enchanted pottery, then back at the kobold, his lips quivering and his eyes wide. After a moment of staring, he says, “All right.” He drags one of the kobolds off the horse and places him on the ground. With a single stab of his sword, he cuts the rope tying their hands and feet. The kobold stands up and looks towards his leader.
Novi sees it coming, but the kobold doesn't. They are about to run towards their people when the man swings his sword in an arc. The bronze blade whistles through the air and slices clean through the kobold's body, separating his chest from his abdomen and splattering the orange blade with blood. A gargled scream is all he manages before his twitching chest falls to the ground with a dull thud and his masterless legs trip forward.
“NO!” the kobold screams from the porch. The other people gasp.
“I thought I could be civil...” the bandit leader says as he drags the next kobold off his horse.
“No, please—” the kobold in his grasp whimpers, but before he can finish, the blade separates his head from his shoulders with a wet crunch.
“Here is your friend.” The man tosses the bleeding head towards the kobold on the porch. It soars through the air, showering those under it in blood before it lands with a dull splat. The kobold on the porch claws at his face as he looks at his friend’s severed head.
“What?” the man asks as he drags the dark-skinned woman, kicking and screaming, off her horse. “I’d have thought you’d be used to blood, sacrificing people and everything. I guess it's only other people's blood, witch?!”
“Monifa! Kaas hassen!” a dark-skinned man screams. He charges forward, his blade over his head. He barely manages to move a few steps before an arrow hits him in the abdomen.
The woman lets out a scream of anguish before a blade is rammed through her back.
The bandit leader pulls his sword out of the squirming woman, raises the bloody weapon over his head and screams, “Slaughter everyone. I want this village burned to the ground and every man, woman, and child on a pike!”
With a flick of her hand, Tili sends waves of rainbow-colored light over her body that turn her transparent. While she disappears, Anselma prepares a spell. White veins move over her forearm as white energy gathers in her hand. Extending her arm towards the dark-skinned man, she blasts him with a jet of white mist. Pieces of ice form on him until he's frozen in place by a thick layer of solid white frost.
The men charge the townsfolk. Some of them run, some of them fight, but those who stand their ground are outnumbered and outfought. Novi sees the kobold standing on the porch pull another ceramic egg out of his pocket. He throws it at them and as soon as it shatters on the ground, it detonates in an orange flash and a high-pitched bang. Specks of molten metal and glowing hot pottery fly in every direction like a firework. The man next to the small explosion jumps as a wave of hot air rolls over him. It's not the explosion but the pieces of scorching shrapnel that cause him to scream as they burrow and burn their way into his body.
One of the men draws a bow, but the kobold is faster. Another enchanted piece of pottery explodes, throwing the archer back and sending his arrow flying into the air.
Novi looks at the wounded man. She has no idea how damaging these enchanted bombs are. She feels the urge to help. ‘I could heal the archer, but I'd have to get past the fighting townsfolk. No. I have to stay back. Just stay alive now and help later. I can't waste that time if he's already dead.’
Anselma is twisting her hands in front of her chest, rapidly forming a sphere of true cold in front of her. The moment she releases it, the spell fires in a small poof of white mist. It flies with a deep whoosh straight for the kobold on the porch. The little man barely manages to scramble forward before the magical missile hits the wood above him. It explodes in an expanding ball of incredible cold. In an instant, the entire porch is covered in frost.
“Get the elves! They're mages!” the kobold screams. He throws several of his enchanted bombs towards Anselma.
The elf doesn't try to dodge, but instead opens her palms and slams her hands together. White energy streams over them and out of her fingers to form a curved shield of white mist. It swirls and expands to cover her entire body.
The first enchanted bomb hits the shield. Its movement is instantly halted and as it falls through the barrier, it's frozen over into a ball of white ice. The second bomb hits the ground in front of the shield and explodes. Hot particles and a wave of heat hit the transparent white field and are all stopped dead by the true cold.
Novi can see Anselma's breathing increase. ‘Why did she put up that true cold shield instead of dodging? Idiot!’ she curses in her head.
Anselma is almost out of vitality. Her hands part and the shield dissolves into white mist as she falls to her knees. Barely able to move from the exhaustion the magic caused, she still manages to crawl to cover before the kobold unleashes another volley of explosive pottery. Novi is about to run to Anselma to regenerate her strength as another man steps out of the large building. He is dressed in a thick gambeson with a solid bronze helmet that only leaves two slits for his eyes. In one hand he holds a bronze shield, while in the other he has a steel sword. The weapon has a ceramic hilt, no sharp edges, but as he holds it, red crack-like marks begin to appear on the blade. A coat of incredible heat starts surrounding the weapon until the metal becomes red hot and surrounded by a sheath of glowing air. As he swings it, the blade leaves behind a trail of red.
“Darak! Schanach i kan. Haram mag!” the kobold squeals.
The helmet moves and his eye slits focus on Novi. The man stomps towards her, his heavy boots thumping against the ground. Suddenly an arrow embeds itself in the man's gambeson. He doesn't seem harmed and his eyes snap onto the archer. Instead of stomping towards Novi, he charges the shooter. The other man fires one more arrow that harmlessly bounces off the warrior's shield before he draws his own sword. He blocks the blow from the man's burning blade, but the magic surrounding the steel weapon cuts right through the archer's bronze sword. Novi hears the archer scream as the enchanted weapon is smashed onto his skull.
Novi scrambles to the panting Anselma. “What the hell were you thinking? You could've dodged those bombs,” Novi hisses as she places her hands on Anselma. Another enchanted bomb goes off somewhere.
“I panicked. Where’s Tili?”
Novi focuses on her spell. Golden veins flow through her hands and into Anselma's body, infusing her with new vitality. “I don't know. I can't imagine she still has the strength to stay invisible so she's probably retreated to catch her breath.”
Novi lets her strength flow into the other elf, and with every second, Anselma’s features rise. Novi’s hands feel burning hot and numb when she finally pulls them away.
Anselma shivers and jumps to her feet. “Thanks, Novi. Hey!” she yells at the man with the enchanted sword. “Let's see how that magical stick holds up to some real magic.”
The man pulls his weapon out of a bandit and charges Anselma, who immediately thrusts her right hand forward. A blast of cold erupts out of her palm and rushes over the man. Frost covers his entire body, slowing his movements as his sword sputters and hisses.
The kobold yells something in their gibberish language at the man and throws another bomb.
The warrior grunts in response and pulls his sword back, protecting its fire with his shield and his body.
“Oh. Seems like someone doesn't want me to snuff out their sword.”
Novi turns away from the fight. ‘This shouldn't be my job, but someone has to take out that freaking enchanter. What the hell is Tili doing?’
The warriors from the town are almost all dead. Their corpses, along with those of several of the men the elves came here with, litter the ground around the large building. There are still a few fighting close to it, but she can't see the kobold anymore.
“Elf! What was your name? Novi? Help me!” a male voice groans.
Novi turns towards the wounded man. An arrow has pierced his abdomen.
Novi feels a bit bummed that she can't hunt down the kobold. ‘But this is where my work starts. I can't believe I'm gonna save a human. The things we do for money...’
As the fighting continues, she runs up to the wounded man. "This is going to hurt, but I'm not wasting my energy on a relief spell,” she says as she pushes him onto his side.
The iron arrowhead has avoided every bone and pierced his entire body.
“What do you mean? I thought—”
Novi pushes the arrow further out the other side until she can grab the shaft, causing the man to scream in agony. She snaps the arrow in half and pulls out both ends, accompanied by writhing and screaming from the man. “Don't be a baby!” she snaps at him as she places her hands on the two wounds. Her strength flows into the open flesh. The arrow only cracked a rib and pierced his liver. ‘Oh, thank the gods, only soft tissue. I love these simple wounds.’
Flesh and tissue knits itself together as Novi forces energy into the body, accelerating the natural healing process a hundredfold. Within seconds there is nothing left of the mortal wound but the blood staining the ground and a small spot of pink skin.
“Thanks,” he says as he stands back up.
“Yeah. Go finish this fight while I look for more wounded.”
Novi picks up a sword and runs to every wounded person. First is a townsman with a stab wound. He's barely moving, but still alive. Seeing no nearby allies that need immediate attention, Novi kneels down next to him. Blood already covers the simple dress she's wearing.
The man's eyes flick onto her. “Please... don't kill... my wife... and... children.”
Novi places both her hands on his head and whispers. “Shh. Leave this life. May the gods guide you to your new form.” As she speaks, veins of golden light snake over her arms and over the man's face, but instead of delivering life-giving magic, they take it away. He gasps and closes his eyes as Novi draws what is left of his strength out of him. As his form sinks, Novi feels a little of her vitality restored. The flow of life force slows and cuts off as his soul flees the now-empty husk.
Novi's eyes move over the other corpses and snap onto a wounded kobold. Covered in mud and blood, the little one is trying to drag its form into a house. Novi is upon him with a few quick steps. “Leave this life. May the gods guide you to your new form,” she whispers as she drains his vitality.
“You really mean that prayer?” one of the men they came with asks.
Novi glares at him. “Of course I do! Shouldn't you be fighting?”
“The fight is over. There are more wounded back there. Maybe you can help them too. I can't believe I'm asking an elf to help people....”
“I can't believe I'm healing humans. We all do things we don't like sometimes.”
Novi runs back to the others. The warrior with the flaming sword lies face down in the dirt, his magical weapon extinguished.
She arrives just as the leader of the bandits rams a spear into the ground and slams the enchanter's severed head on top of it. “What are you all waiting for? Everyone who can still move, loot the houses and kill everything hiding inside them. Tonight we feast between the corpses of these monsters!”
Novi checks on Tili and Anselma first. They're both leaning against a house, panting, but otherwise unharmed. The men hit by the shrapnel bombs are all dead, and in total the bandits lost four of their number in the fight. Novi heals a few cuts that could get infected, but when someone asks her to heal his bruise, she tells him to sod off.
The bandits erect a campfire and gorge themselves on the livestock and supplies of the villagers until both the elves and the humans can barely move without upsetting their stomachs.
