Paul Thompson - Firstborn

“Well, it’s different.” The slice was gone. “Could I have some more?” The elf prince laughed and cut a larger piece.

Anaya came out of the tree, dragging their furs and bedding into the sun. The red and yellow lines she had painted on her face enhanced the already startling green of her eyes. The elf woman glanced over at the two males, crouched by the fire, and saw Mackeli nibbling a slice of venison. She ran over and slapped the meat from his hand.

“It is forbidden for you to eat meat!” she said heatedly.

“Oh? And who forbids me? You?” demanded Mackeli defiantly.

“Yes!”

Kith-Kanan rose to pull them apart, but as one Mackeli and Anaya shoved him back. He sprawled on the wet turf, astonished.

“You did not kill the animal, Keli, so you have no right to eat it!” Anaya said fiercely.

“You didn’t kill it either! Kith did!” he countered.

“That’s different. Kith is a hunter, you’re only a boy. Stick to your nuts and berries.” The “boy” Anaya snarled at was now a head taller than she.

“Are those eyes of yours blind?” Mackeli argued. “Nothing is as it was. The spirits of the forest have turned their backs on you. You’ve lost your stealth, your keen senses, and your agility. You’ve turned green! I’ve gotten bigger and stronger. I can shoot a bow. You.” Mackeli was sputtering in his rage “—you don’t belong in the forest any longer!”

Within the sharply painted lines, Anaya’s eyes grew large. She made a fist and struck Mackeli smartly on the face. He fell on his back. Kith-Kanan realized things had gone too far.

“Stop it, both of you!” he barked. Anaya had advanced over Mackeli, ready to hit him again, but Kith-Kanan pushed her back. She stiffened, and for a moment he thought she would take a swing at him. After a moment, the anger left her and she stood aside.

The prince helped Mackeli to his feet. A smear of blood showed under the boy’s nose.

“I know we’ve been cooped up together too long, but there’s no reason for fighting,” Kith-Kanan said severely. “Mackeli is reaching his adulthood, Ny, you can’t hold him back.” He turned to the boy, who was dabbing at his bleeding nose with his sleeve. “And you have no right saying things like that to her. Not even the Forestmaster herself has said Anaya doesn’t belong in the wood any more. So guard your tongue, Keli. If you wish to be a warrior, you must learn self-control.”

Suddenly they heard a pair of hands clapping behind them and a voice exclaiming, “Well said.”

Kith-Kanan, Anaya, and Mackeli turned abruptly. A score of men holding swords or crossbows flanked the hollow tree. Standing by the door, dressed in elegant but impractical crimson, was the half-human Voltorno—as strong and healthy as ever, from the look of it.

You!” hissed Anaya.

“Stand very still,” cooed Voltorno. “I would hate to perforate you after such a touching performance. It really was worthy of the finest playhouse in Daltigoth.” He nodded, and the humans fanned out carefully, surrounding the trio.

“So you survived your wound,” Kith-Kanan said tersely. “What a pity.”

“Yes,” he said with calm assurance. “We had a first-rate healer on the ship. We returned to Ergoth, where I made known your interference in our operation. I was commissioned to return and deal with you.”

Voltorno flipped back his hip-length cape, exposing a finely wrought sword hilt. He walked to Anaya, looking her up and down. “Bit of a savage, isn’t she?” he said with a sneer to Kith-Kanan and turned to Mackeli. “Could this be our wild boy? Grown a bit, haven’t you?” Mackeli kept his hands at his sides, but he was breathing hard. Voltorno shoved him lightly with one gloved hand. “You’re the one who shot me,” he said, still smiling pleasantly. “I owe you something for that.” He pushed Mackeli again. Kith-Kanan gathered himself to spring on Voltorno. As if he were reading the prince’s mind, Voltorno said to his men, “If either of them moves, kill them both.”

The half-human grasped the gilded hilt of his sword and drew the slim blade from its scabbard. He held it by the blade; the pommel bobbed just inches from Mackeli’s chest. The boy stared at the sword hilt as he backed away. Mackeli’s heels crunched in some of the late snow until his back bumped a tree at the edge of the clearing.

“Where will you go now?” asked Voltorno, his gray eyes gleaming.

Kith-Kanan freed his dagger from his belt when the bowmen turned their attention to the half-human. The elf prince realized that only one of them was behind him, about eight feet away. He nudged Anaya lightly with his elbow. She didn’t look at him, but nudged him back.

Kith-Kanan turned and hurled the dagger at the bowman. The good elven iron punched through the man’s leather jerkin. Without a word, he fell back, dead. Kith-Kanan broke left, Anaya right. The humans started yelling and opened fire. Those on the left shot at Anaya. Those on the right shot at Kith-Kanan. The only thing they hit was each other.

About half of the group went down, shot by their own comrades. Kith-Kanan dived for the muddy ground and rolled to the man he’d killed with his dagger. The human’s crossbow had discharged on impact with the ground. Kith-Kanan pulled a quarrel from the dead man’s quiver and struggled to cock the bow.

Anaya also threw herself on the ground, drawing her flint knife as she fell. She was a good ten yards from Mackeli and the archers, who were reloading their weapons. Mackeli reacted to the confusion by trying to snatch Voltorno’s sword, but the half-human was too quick for him. In no time Voltorno had reversed his grip and thrust his weapon at Mackeli. The boy ducked, and Voltorno’s blade stuck in a tree.

“Get them! Kill them!” Voltorno shouted.

Mackeli ran in and out of the trees along the clearing’s edge. Quarrels flicked by him.

Across the clearing, Anaya crawled away in the wet turf, using her toes and elbows. As the archers concentrated their fire on Mackeli, she rose and threw herself at the back of the nearest man. Her moves were not as graceful as they once were, but her flint knife was as deadly as ever. One of the men, wounded by a quarrel, managed to sit up and aim his crossbow at Anaya’s back. Luckily, Kith-Kanan picked him off before he could shoot.

Mackeli had plunged into the woods. Several of the surviving humans ran after him, but Voltorno called them back.

Anaya also made it to cover in the woods. She ran only a dozen yards or so before dropping to the ground. In seconds, she was buried in the leaves. Two humans tramped right past her.

Kith-Kanan tried to cock the bow a second time. From a sitting position though, it wasn’t easy; the bow was too stiff. Before he could get the string over the lock nut, Voltorno arrived and presented him with thirty inches of Ergothian iron.

“Put it down,” Voltorno ordered. When Kith-Kanan hesitated, the half-human raked his sword tip over the prince’s jaw. Kith-Kanan felt the blood flow as he dropped the crossbow.

“Your friends have reverted to type,” said Voltorno with contempt. “They’ve run off and left you.”

“Good,” Kith-Kanan replied. “At least they will be safe.”

“Perhaps. You, my friend, are anything but safe.”

The eight surviving humans crowded around. Voltorno gave them a nod, and they dragged Kith-Kanan to his feet, punching and kicking him. They brought him to the far side of the clearing where they’d first come in and where they’d dropped their baggage. Voltorno produced a set of arm and leg shackles, then chained Kith-Kanan hand and foot.

Anaya burrowed away from the clearing, worming through the leaves like a snake. In times past, she could have done so without disturbing a single leaf on the surface. Now, to her ears, she sounded like a herd of humans. Fortunately Voltorno and his men were busy on the other side of the clearing.