Blood Memories [Last of Elves book 1] (NaNoWriMo 2014)

Eight: Panthera

Panthera

This time, he was taken to a cell. It was deep within the temple, where there were few torches lighting the way, and their footsteps echoed eerily. He’d already rubbed his wrists raw on the rope, to no avail. He knew what was so different about this rope, but he wasn’t going to let the warriors escorting him know that. It would only give them more of an advantage over him.

He stayed silent, grunting only slightly when he was thrust into the cell hard enough to stumble. He caught himself before he fell, and turned as the door slammed shut behind him, throwing him into darkness. A faint shimmer of light tried to make its way into the cell, but the torch was too far away to be of any use.

He sighed, and slid down the wall, leaning back against it. The position made his arms ache and his wrists throb, but he took no notice, closing his eyes. He should have known better than to reveal what he was. By law, anyone who found an elf was allowed to kill them. He didn’t know why he’d thought the priestess would be any different. It had just been luck keeping him alive this long.

But the rope used to restrain him worried him. He’d thought they’d kept it a secret from the humans.

Redvine. The only thing that could hold an elf captive. The elves had always guarded the secret viciously. If all humans had known, they would have died off much faster.

He tested the rope again, pain shooting up his arms. Nothing was going to happen anytime soon, he knew, but he wanted to be sure. He didn’t trust her, just as she didn’t trust him.

Unbidden, an image of her presented itself in his mind, of when he’d first seen her, walking regally through the streets. She’d seemed so haughty then. So proud of what she was. Deserving of her power and wealth. She’d looked the part of a priestess, and he knew that the prayers and offerings given to her were usually answered.

So were the requests.

And the questions.

He frowned, every word she’d spoken to him coming back to him. Whatever his question had been, she’d answered it in some way or another.

She’d told him he had to best the captain to understand what he was here for. He’d never fought to kill someone, and he didn’t want to start now. There was a very good reason that the elves were known as the peaceful race. They hated killing, even if it was in self-defence. Instead, they inured their foe, and fled while they were recovering from the blow. It wasn’t a sound tactic, of course. It meant that they were always on the run, always fleeing.

He hated it. He’d always hated running. It wasn’t in his nature to run from a fight, to not protect his family. But he’d never been one to kill, either. He had never seen the reason for it, never seen why blood needed to be spilt to solve conflicts.

Now, he was being told to kill. He couldn’t. It was the reason he’d refused. He had no wish to be the next captain of the temple guards, even if the priestess wanted him to. Not if it meant killing. Not even if it meant understanding what she wanted of him.

However, as he thought about it, a thought occurred to him. She’d only told him to best the captain. Not kill him. It was only rumours he’d heard in the markets that the captain had to be killed. Perhaps he could avoid bloodshed after all.