Vampiris Sancti: The Elf (42 page)

The colours
danced above the marble very like the Borealis of the human skies.
Had anyone else except the Martyc offered the bounty she wouldn’t
have bothered giving the stone a second thought, but he was Empire
and she was Elf. Zyre could feel the awe of those behind her as
their eyes greedy with desire for her and the cerilort bored into
her back. The Druqe, pulling his hand quickly back from the table,
accidently dropped the stone and both Zyre and Vryn reached for the
oval as it rolled across the centre of the table. Their hands
touched and to the observers it was only a brief moment. To the Elf
time suspended with green eyes meeting black and his desire passed
through her like a jolt of lightning. Zyre snatched her hand back
as a fussy Afir replaced the stone inside the velvet pouch and she
caught him glancing at them both from under his pale lashes. It was
hard to lie when trapped within a room filled with creatures whose
existence depended upon their ability to read the atmosphere and it
was nearly impossible to lie to a liar. As he gave his master the
pouch her eyes met his and Afir couldn’t keep his intent secret.
Zyre realised the Druqe while servicing some secret agenda had
deliberately created the moment between her and Vryn. He might be
clever, but she hung about with cats and Pixies, so if the Druqe
wanted to manipulate her he was going to have to do much better
than this!

The knowledge
that Afir was trying to play her amused the Elf enough to restore
her good humour and she gave Vryn a warm smile that made his eyes
bright. The Martyc’s eyes burned as he handed her the pouch and
once in possession she smiled like a Cheshire cat leaving her
glowing emerald eyes upon his as her cheeky presence faded slowly
away.

Zyre reappeared
on the roof surprised that she got out of Ravulisa so easily, but
perhaps the spell was for keeping intruders from getting inside not
outside. Mindful of conserving her energy she only dissolved as far
as she needed and found Gargoyles hidden behind the façade of the
small wall encasing the angled roofline. She sat down and took the
creamy gem from the pouch to stare at the display of colours
dancing above the oval wonder. The beauty of the gem could have
captivated one forever, except hers was not a nature of acquisition
and ownership of the cerilort was only temporary until she could
use it for something. Zyre wasn’t one to plan, but she realised
that she couldn’t be everywhere at once as there were too many
annoying beings colluding upon this world. This now included the
Druqe who once promised to aid her in avoiding Dhaigre and all it
took was a brief threat from Raiders for him to renege on his deal.
Now it was obvious he thought the sooner Vryn stopped chasing her
then the sooner he could return to Empire business. A scowling Zyre
considered that Afir should count himself lucky she was not wife of
the prince for she would make his life bothersome as a Goblin!

Returning the
jewel to the pouch, she reflected upon her next course of action
and decided that she should visit one Florian Ribeni. There were
several reasons, the first to torment him in case he had returned
to his vanity, and the other was to work out how to keep Galt away
from the Tyro. Normally the Elf wouldn’t have bothered about
Vampire affairs, but the evil of that Old World was putting an
entire realm at risk. Zyre sighed as she stood up because—as always
with this world—it came back to the Vampires never being able to
mind their own affairs.

She grimaced at
an expressionless Gargoyle. “Suppose you’re not up for a lift?”

The
Despair

The capacity of
magical beings to appear outside the laws of the universe was the
result of their tie to the organic properties of their
surroundings. Aligned with the energy of life upon whatever realm
they occupied they used nature to trick nature into believing what
was seen, what couldn’t be, or what might be. Unfortunately, the
energy that gave the magical being the power to control their
presence within a space was also the force that maintained their
equilibrium. When the essence of this force was compromised not
only was their physical ability diminished, but damage of serious
proportion also affected their psyche.

The most
powerful of magical beings was also the one who relied upon nature
the greatest and who felt the shift in balance with the highest
intensity. When an Elf was faced with a world off kilter, where
nature was affected by a natural or generated disaster, then she
found herself subject to not only limitation of energy, but also a
dark shadow of depression impinged upon her soul. If the barren
landscape were the natural environment of the planet, then the
magical visitor would operate with more restriction than within
lush surroundings. If within a setting where the environment had
been damaged through disaster or design the Elf would find herself
unconsciously mourning the loss and she could become withdrawn and
unresponsive.

This state
could be one of two avenues that led to the downward spiral of an
Elf in the grips of melancholy. The affinity for nature and freedom
was imperative for the wellbeing of the magical rascal. Deprive an
Elf of her freedom and the ensuing despondent state would escalate
into a hopeless depression. Her captor could watch the vibrant star
of the Reveal fade away. The Elf would reach towards nature no
matter which realm she occupied as she was careful to disturb
little. This respect allowed the Elf to absorb the energy given
from all life forms, flora and fauna and it helped her create the
reality and illusion of her omnipotent presence.

The nonchalance
of the Elf and her appearance of observational disregard was not
from a lack of connection, but an overwhelming response to her
environment. Cursed with a nature that vigorously interacted with
the living, disaster, discord, and wretchedness brought the Elf to
the limits of her endurance, so she would need immediate respite
from the misery. She would abscond from desolation with such haste
as to appear unconcerned by catastrophe and her lack of involvement
branded her as superficial and unreliable. The Elf would emerge
after the fact when balance had been restored appearing as if she
couldn’t be bothered to face unpleasant events.

The only time
the magical would face a world askew without fleeing was when
confronting the chaos caused by a Kheleyk spell. These poorly
constructed enchantments were usually incomplete and rarely
serviced beyond the initial casting making restoration a simple
matter. When faced with adversity the Elf would remain objectively
aloof from the distress of facing injured or dying comrades while
protecting her own wellbeing. Once the encounter had ended she
would leave to gather her scattered wits and restore herself back
to her natural state. Those viewing the rapid departure of the Elf
often believed it was from lack of concern for those left behind.
The truth of the Elf was never known because she was not aware of
the driving force behind her actions. Controlled by a biological
need to remove her from dealing with potential tragedy an Elf would
never face what others steeled themselves to deal with and would be
condemned by her act of survival. This magical being traversed the
Reveal protected by both her nature and the capacity to ensure she
never succumbed to an emotional interior unable to cope with grief.
When faced with the reality of loss or calamity she resorted to the
illusion of indifference—causing even demons pause as she stepped
over those fallen.

If the Elf was
unable to leave or was trapped she would at first become despondent
and then inconsolable. Without the ability to rationalise her
situation she would fall into what was known as the Despair.
Trapping an Elf was more of circumstance than actual restraint,
remove her ability to travel freely, harm those she cared about,
and she constructed her own prison. Hopeless misery would overcome
what little logic she possessed and without intervention from
others then she would fall into a decline from which there was no
return. There were few things in the Reveal that could bring real
harm to an Elf and the unfortunate truth of her life was that she
usually was the instigator of her own demise. Hardly any demons
were aware of her natural predilection for depression and inability
to deal with situations that inspired grief. Exterior to the
magical world the Martyc was one of the few able to suspect the
reality of her fragile disposition and usually had the resources to
deal with her needs. Once she settled down with a mate the Elf
rarely succumbed to the Despair as the strength she couldn’t find
for herself—she would find for her family.

The Despair
left the Elf vulnerable on many fronts and she would cease to
absorb enough energy or lack focus, which left her open to attack.
She could be slow to respond, unable to dissolve in time, or fail
to use the Salvae correctly causing the Seal of Sere to turn back
upon her. The Despair, while not a frequent cause of fatality among
Elves, ensured that enough had fallen to its clutches to warrant
that those watching were always alert to the potential. The Elf
traversed the Reveal avoiding moments of disturbing actuality
unaware that to survive she needed remain oblivious to the cold
truth of reality—even that of her own.

**********

CAT, n. A
soft, indestructible automaton provided by nature to be kicked when
things go wrong in the domestic circle.

Ambrose
Bierce

Not expecting a
response from the Gargoyles Zyre jumped down into a side street
startling the Varkja standing outside the parked car of the Martyc.
Noting their surprise she surmised that the protection spell of
Ravulisa must have sheltered her from being observed on the roof.
She filed the useful bit of information away for future use as she
gave the security a mischievous beam before skipping towards the
first rays of dawn. She made her way slowly across the city,
unconcerned by the presence of humans as she blended easily into
their unobservant world.

Once back in
the artificial garden she examined the cerilort in the light while
her concrete companions greeted her with their usual affront.
Though she was not a creature of plans she knew that Florian—her
only real Vampire link—would probably faint at the suggestion of
accosting Galt. She decided the ones she should speak to would be
the caretakers of the girl as they would be more interested in her
protection and perhaps would reveal more about the rogue Vampire.
In her mind the Vampires were acting stupider than a Gnome drunk on
beer. They were not doing what they should to protect their Veil,
themselves, even the girl, and once again magical had to intervene.
Zyre carefully placed the gem inside the hem of her vest, and after
grabbing several bottles of honey nodded to the vibrating guards
before dissolving into the street below.

Her plan to
return to Veraign and bother Florian Ribeni would serve her twice.
Once to obtain information about the troublesome Vampires and the
other was to replenish her energy by enjoying a rest in the large
garden. This world of plastic and concrete seriously impeded her
ability to regain her full strength. If Taryst Janeb was still
about—then that was what she would need. Guarding her reserves she
wandered over to a bus stop for, despite this being daylight, she
still noticed the odd demon and Vampire wandering about. She didn’t
fear attack, but after the skirmish with the Raiders she wanted to
retain enough energy to vanish quickly. She didn’t have an exact
address to tell a taxi as she had followed Vampires home the first
time she went to Veraign, nor did she have money to pay for one.
Without energy to waste in dissolves and requiring transport she
estimated the House was north. She watched a bus pull up while
considering if it could be useful. The flood of those rushing to
work streamed around her, their faces grey with the struggle of
life yet never knowing their truth. She would have liked to stay
unobserved, but she couldn’t read the number of the bus. Even if
she could it would do nothing to inform her of the destination, so
she climbed the metal steps towards the appreciative eyes of the
driver.

Zyre gave the
driver a friendly smile and unable to help his natural response to
the Elf he smiled back at his passenger.

“I need to go
north,” she said in careful human.

The driver
seemed pleased to help her. “We go right up Longer to Northside.
That’ll be three dollars.”

Zyre understood
the concept of money because she had seen it employed upon many
worlds although she preferred the magical concept of exchange. She
reached in her pocket for a shalur before remembering she had none
left, so she offered the driver a bear of honey but the driver
shook his head. Looking around she spied a young man dressed in
black watching her with an interest that was different to the open
admiration of the driver. The sexual interest of this particular
male was muted by something else—something the Elf was unable to
place—something strong and she gave him a cheeky grin.

“This one will
pay for me,” she asserted to the bus driver.

The young man
raised his brow at her audacity and the driver turned around to see
if the passenger agreed with the proclamation of his beautiful, but
strange, customer. The man in black shook his head in disbelief
causing the Elf to pat her pockets.

“Got no
money—got no home—not know where I be going. If you not help me
then I will be forced into actions of the terrible—of the
Nefarious!”

Giving her a
sceptical look he walked up to the front and paid the driver who
acted as if it was entirely normal for strangers to pay her fare.
Zyre followed the man in black back to his seat and oblivious to
any human conventions concerning a nearly empty bus sat down beside
him.