The Elven Mistress
A short story by Raea Adams

“Capt’n! There is an elf on the ship! We caught the filthy creature though don’t ya worry.”  A crewmate of the Death’s Whisper, a pirate ship that is infamous for it’s attacks. A ship made of a black metal and elegant wood, yet grim. This airship soars high above the Earth, trying to spot easy prey that will be plundered and treated with ill care. Steam puffing from its engine, and a sail as savage as the crew itself.

“Bring it in here, I’ll teach it a lesson it’ll soon not forget.” Says the captain of the bleak, savage vessel, Captain Gethin Gowan. A tall, firm man with a voice as cold as the deepest winter, eyes as dark as the dungeons of Visca. A voice as deadly as death itself, yet his voice is also of a charming intelligent scholar. Dark hair with red streaks, short and spiked, brass goggles with the emblem of death on the sides strapped to his forehead. An overcoat that reached far below his waist, the buttons all odd and varying sizes and styles up the coat, two pockets inside the coat and two pockets near the stomach on the outside of the coat, the coat itself a very dark yet not black. His undershirt a fancy cotton shirt, as blue as the clear sky the ship soars in. His boots intimidating yet light on his feet. A fearsome person that has the fear of everyone he encounters as of now.

“Aye aye Capt’n!” Shouts to the crewmate that announced the news to Gethin, the crewmate’s just a man in a poor Victorian outfit. He scurries off to grab the elf from outside the door. He drags a girl into the medium sized master quarters, a nice bed decorated in red velvet sheets, a night stand, a rustic chest, and other various pieces that belong to Gethin. He tosses her down trying to catch his breathe, this particular crewmate isn’t very active as the rest, the runt of the litter.

As soon as the girl was tossed down Gethin was staring in awe. The Elven girl is a beautiful fair skinned, slender, tall maiden, black tighter pants made of leather with slits on the upper thighs side, a black top that is long enough to reach her waist, her arms were a bit more baggy. Her left shoulder was bare because of this; a tattoo is revealed, black ink of a strange symbol, her hair white as snow, a wristband on her right wrist with a blue, violet esque jewel dangling off. Captain Gethin’s eyes gaze in adoration of the girl, then his puppy love eyes turn into a demonic force worth reckoning with, blood lust in his eyes. Wandering right over to his crewmate, in disbelief he’d mistake such a mesmerizing maiden as a filthy Elf. “What is the meaning of this Jerome?!” He asks in fury, so furious his own crew wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between a divine human being and a filthy Elven abomination.

“I swear sir! She’s an Elf! Look, look! Her ears sir! They are pointed, you must believe me! Don’t be tricked by her deceitful beauty!” Jerome keeps saying in a panic. Not wanting his cruel boss to decapitate him right there, having his final sight be a blade slicing across his neck, severing from the body. His blood flying out as the lights dim because of an Elf. He quickly pulls the soft hair off the ear of the girl lying on the ground. Completely unconscious.

Immediately annoyed at finding himself being wrong Gethin quickly replies. “Hmm, it seems you are right.” Says Gethin in a firm voice, feeling slightly embarrassed but not showing it in his face. He gets up from the elegant wooden seat with red velvet cushioning which he was sitting in trying to enjoy a couple Visca lace cakes. Dark chocolate cookies with chocolate chips, oatmeal, and pure greatness. Such a delicacy that simply couldn’t be turned away. More desired than the King’s throne in ways and an Elf ruined his delicious snacks. “I suppose there’s but one thing to do.” Says Gethin in a cold, bone chilling voice. The kind that made Jerome step a few paces back. Swallowing his saliva, unsure of what exactly Gethin will do to the Elf or him. Gethin turns his back to the Elf and crewmate with a slow turn. Stepping a few feet away to grab an ornate case off the bed, a dark red like blood, decorated in symbols that mean courage, prowess, and no fear to man nor any god. He picks the case up slowly, his breathing seeming to have stopped or very subtle. The case slides off onto the relaxing looking bed as Gethin tips it downward and unlocks the little hook that is the final precaution which holds the blade inside. A slick blade is revealed, very stylized, but very very mortifying for enemies to gaze upon. Gethin turns around slowly looking between the Elf and Jerome. Jerome gulps again, considering his death will be very soon. He knew begging for his life would only anger his captain more, he remained silent. Gethin slowly walked to the Elven girl, raises his blade in great form.

Then a single breathe is taken as the room’s silence becomes beyond silent. Seconds feel like minutes, minutes feel like hours, the suspense was killing Jerome, literally. Gethin slammed his blade down with all his force, hatred seemingly flowing from the blade into the Elven girl. Jerome sighed as his life was not taken, not yet anyways. As Gethin’s brutal slash was supposed to hit the Elven girl on the floor. A bright purple flash appeared, a transparent purple shield of what seemed like energy now surrounding the Elven girl. A swirling energy inside the shield, the Elven girl slowly awoken. She slowly crawled into a sitting position, taking a few breathes before attempting to stand. She fell hard as she tried to stand, a loud thud on the hardwood floor. Her second attempt at standing was much more successful. Her graceful stance catching all attention in the room. A simple word spoken from her lips “i’ agar is a’ come.” (The blood is to come) She whispers in a strange tongue, her voice bringing the feeling of death among them. They look at her in almost terror, though Gethin stands firm, his sword in hand, his blood boiling that an Elf had made him look foolish. As the purple energy seemed to dissipate into thin air, Gethin’s eyes zeroed in on the girl like a hawk targeting prey. His hand clenching the hilt of his blade tightly, the muscles in his body ready to spring and assault the unsuspecting girl. He takes a single breathe and lunges toward the girl, his blade’s edge slicing right into her. Gethin expected blood to have been spilt. He wanted her Elven blood all over the walls and floor. He wanted her dead.

The girl had stopped the blade with her hand; the blade did penetrate her flesh. Leaving a gash that had a little bit of blood oozing from under the blade that Gethin had yet to remove. His smile faded into annoyance, anger, pure rage towards this girl. The atmosphere had grown into an intense rage war between Gethin and the unknown Elven girl. She smiled, a smile so genuine, so wide and large, so crazed. It was the smile of a person who has no sanity, a person with nothing to lose and a statement to make. Pure white teeth, breath that smells of berries, yet a smile so creepy it would make the Ripper run in terror. Her smile was frozen in time; she pulls the razor sharp blade from the palm of her hand, with her bare hand. Blood spilling onto the ground, the blood on the blade was not enough to satisfy Gethin’s blood lust. The noise they have made has alerted the entire ship, every man and women onboard suiting up for combat. They grab their blades and daggers, pistols, and small armor platings that some had. They rushed to the door of the Captain’s quarters, no matter what was happening inside, if they entered Gethin had warned them of a dire consequence. So they stay ready to spring to life, ready to slay any foe that lay in their path. Inside was a raging battle, more so on Gethin’s part than the Elven mistress’s.

Immediately Gethin’s eyes grow wide and horrified at what his opponent has done, the fact she did so without breaking her smile even slightly, the fresh warm blood spilling forth from the gash has no effect on her. She simply had to be insane, crazy, a complete sociopath. She tilted her head sideways, her beautiful eyes staring into Gethin’s soul, her gaze so terrifying that he could feel his nerve becoming less and less. He wanted nothing more to do with this girl. She corrected her head tilt, and started humming a song. Her hands moved in a motion, forming a symbol, as if she was writing in the air, then she whispered more words, this time in English. “Without chaos there would be no order. Humans are the workers of chaos. Elves are also workers of chaos. Now it’s time to awaken the world. To death do I serve, till fire do I burn.” As she finished her creepy, cold whisper the air stopped. All airflow was gone, from her hands fire formed. Her smile still in full effect, her beauty untouched, her hands engulfed in a blazing purple flame. A color of flame nobody has seen, such a hot flame the metal of the airship melts when touched within seconds. She began dancing around the room, leaving fire blazing in her wake, then busts through the door. The crew outside ready to attack but put ablaze on sight, nothing in sight that’s not being burned to ashes. Gethin managing to not get set on fire rushes out the fiery dungeon, slashing all crew that try to touch him as he tries to escape. Adrenaline rushing through his body. Fire and blood flooding the air as Gethin cuts down several of his crew, the smell of iron flooding his nose, blood splashed on him like a child painting. Bodies burning and cut laying on the ground with their dying spirit crying for help. The girl still dancing around setting the ship ablaze even more, her tattoo has been glowing bright purple since the fire started. Gethin sees her and makes the strange, obscure connection, though still has no idea of how to defeat her. He rushes to a little room, avoiding most fire, having to put out small fires on his clothes, leaving singe marks.

As soon as he managed to cross the blazing ship, he finds the parachutes which are stored just in case of an emergency, he grabs one that’s being lit on fire as he grabs it, putting it out as best as he can. He puts on the parachute, his last hope for survival, his adrenaline pumping even more through his body. He runs faster, and faster, and faster. Hoping to make it to the edge of the ship alive. The girl maniacally as she finishes her work, gazing upon it with pride, such pride only a person with no moral could have for such destruction. Gethin jumps from the blazing ship that’s starting to go down, the fire reaching the fuel storage. Boom! A loud noise blasting across the sky, Gethin diving as fast as he can, barely escaping the grasp of the explosion. Hoping he’s high enough to make a safe landing, hoping the girl died with the ship. The wind breeze smelling to him of death, soot, and pure destruction. The wind blasting downward with him.

As soon as he lands on the streets of Visca, a large grand city, smelling of food, booze, and many aromas from the various people roaming the streets. He recovers from the descent landing and tosses the parachute to the ground and runs. Just runs and doesn’t stop running, Pushing people out of his way, the streets nearly filled. He’s a wanted man in a big city; he can’t stand around to get arrested. The dungeons are horrid, people known to go crazy and kill themselves. “If that thing is still alive, I hope we never meet again.” This thought runs through Gethin’s mind over and over, like a record player stuck on repeat. He takes one glance back towards the sky, his ship crashing through the air, heading straight towards town like a missile. He sees an object falling from the sky, an object that had not enough detail from this distance to conclude what it was. But it was shooting straight for the city, something that is going to smash and die, leaving but a pool of blood for the city to clean up. “It’s her, she’s not dead. How?! But she’s alive, who is she? She’s going to be dead soon enough” Gethin thinks, hoping she actually dies and doesn’t come back. His hope is lost as he sees a bright flash of purple light then the girl is next to him, he sees purple wings dissipating like the purple energy. He’s paralyzed. “How is this possible? This is too fake to be real.” Gethin thinks trying to make reason, completely oblivious to the abilities of Elves, just wanting to live. The girl grabs him on the shoulder, trying not to make a scene in the overflowing streets. “I know you can understand me now, I know who you are, you are the one who can help me.” She whispers in his ear coldly, the same cold, yet happy voice that had been heard by him before. He looked at her, terrified of what he was going to see. Her creepy, wide, twisted smile was gone for now. Her beauty remained unsoiled, he took a deep breathe as long as she wasn’t going to cut him down right here, as long as he doesn’t need to feel death’s kiss just yet.

After choking on his words Gethin asks. “What tongue did you speak before?” trying to make some sense out of this whole thing. She pulls him into an alley before speaking. “I spoke ancient Elvish before, now I speak your tongue. I know many tongues, and the magic you have seen, is not magic. It’s nothing but the planet’s energy, the Elvish are in tune with the Earth, it holds many energies. Humans destroy it; your kind is unable to use this energy. My name is Fae” She says quietly and quickly hoping nobody else can hear what she has said. Gethin’s head is hurting, so much information, so quickly, his mind feels like it’s splitting from the overwhelming information. “This world’s people have failed it; they must pay for their sins. You bring chaos, disorder, terror to them, you must help me. To do this you must die.” Fae says in the same cold, happy voice that fills Gethin with dread. He is completely shocked by what he is hearing, so confused on how being dead would help the cause this Elf is dragging him into. But before he could object, Fae pushed a blade into his stomach, red blood flowing out, unable to scream from toxins that the dagger inflicts upon its victim. He slowly fades into absolute lifelessness. An ending of his life, and a beginning to his rebirth. A newborn agent of chaos

[Art by Ayya Saparniyazova]