Wings of an Elfin Warrior Chapter 1

Wings of an elfin warrior.

By Cyndi Smith

Chapter 1

He had stopped just out side the city limits and looked over what was becoming the newer more modern Gotham. It seemed like yesterday when he had looked across at the old concrete jungle with the innocent eyes of a nine-year-old circus performer. It was then he realized that he was in the field where his parents had died. How strange it seemed for him to be here, and not even realize where here was. He hopped off his motorcycle and walked over to the area the big top had been. It was as if he could hear the sound of the calliope and the crowd as they mingled in the background. There were now wild flowers growing in the area where the animal pens had been kept. He seated himself on the sandy ground and unconsciously dug at it. When his gloved hand rubbed against a stone, he used it to continue digging. He wasn't certain how long he had been playing, but he suddenly became aware of a steady beep coming from his glove. Still clutching the stone, he lifted the cover to the small computer compartment hidden inside.

"Nightwing here, what d'ya need?"

"Is that anyway to say hi?" Barbara pouted.

"Sorry. Hi, beautiful, what d'ya need?" he grinned.

"That's better, but not by much," she laughed. "Where are you? You were expected at the cave over an hour ago. What happened, you fall asleep? You do remember sleep right?"

"You care, I am flattered. Tell papa bat I'm on my way." He smiled, although he seemed distracted by the strange glass-like rock in his hand.

"Are you ok? Really?" she asked noticing the strange look on his face. "I know you've been under a lot of stress lately."

"Yeah. I'm fine. The bridge was up on Gotham Parkway, so I bypassed it through Parker's Field and got distracted by a memory."

"If you need to talk, you know where to find me. And since lucky you will be in the neighborhood, I'll even put the hot cocoa on." She tried to smile knowing all too well what the memories were.

"I'm ok, Babs, really. I got in some good memories, and I found this really cool stone." He smiled like a little boy who was showing off a treasure.

"A crystal." She returned.

"Huh?"

"That is not a stone. It's some kind of crystal. I can't say I've seen anything like it. It's quite beautiful."

"Yeah? I knew that, Mr. Wizard. I was just testing you. But if it'll buy me a night with a beautiful and studious red head, then it's yours. I'll bring it over when I come for the coffee talk later. Gotta run." With that, he tucked the item into the cuff of his boot, climbed onto his bike and roared off into the shadows of the dark city he had once called home.



It had been a while since Nightwing had run the rooftops of Gotham. Strange how different it felt being alone up here. But Bruce had asked him to help with a case that involved some unknown person and his very elite army who was taking over much of the drug and underground cartels that Batman had worked so hard to demolish in Gotham. The thing that was bothering the Dark Knight was the fact that this faceless monster was already making way to spread his "family" through the country. Similar incidents of takeovers had

happened in Metropolis, Central City and a few other major cities along the east coast.

"Bruce was going to be out of town for a few days," he thought to himself. "So I have double duty . . . one day here, one day in Bludhaven, one day in New York, if necessary, not to mention my day job . . . but luckily it's a three-day weekend for me. So, daytime is bedtime. Man, I love my bed. I miss my bed."

Suddenly he caught sight of a flash of light through the skylight of the Museum.

"Can the nostalgia, Grayson. We've got action." He activated the connection to Babs as he jumped from the Gotham towers to the rooftop of the Museum in the cultural district of the city. "Hey Babs, you know anything about a 2 am showing in the Museum on Downing Street?"

"2 am? Nope, nothing scheduled. Shall I call in the Calvary?"

"No, tell the 'Calvary' if he isn't asleep at 2 am, he'd better be cramming for the physics exam tomorrow. Man, these guys are good! Full cover," he announced as fully camouflaged burglars continued to meet in the foyer. At least 6 . . . 10 . . . no . . . how many rooms are in here, Babs, do you know?"

"Twenty-three, not including the restrooms, offices, and labs; strictly showcases. Why?"

"They keep showing up in twos . . . if they wanted a full search, 2 men per room . . . they . . . " Dick almost didn't notice the guy come up from behind him. He wasn't really sure what set off his internal alarms, but he looked up in time to see at least 6 dark figures closing in on him. He managed to roll from beneath the swung baseball bat at the last minute, coming up from under one man and connecting hard on his manhood.

"Oh, that's got to hurt," Dick mumbled to himself, dodging the next man, then flipping over a third. He couldn't believe how good these guys were, and yet they all seemed to be just using basic bar-brawling techniques. No sooner had he taken one down when three more came in. He'd take down three, and the ones that went down before would pop up like they had their batteries recharged, then barrel in on him. This was embarrassing. His only option was to retreat and return with help, but first he would have to get away.

He had failed. He was going retreat, and there were only 6 of them. How many times had Batman told him that when you were distracted, you wouldn't be completely aware of your enemy? He guessed he goofed again. He felt the first blow connect to his already sore ribs. Another hit him squarely across the back, sending a painful burning sensation to every part of his body. Everything seemed to slow down almost to a stop. That was when a third man tackled him, sending them both back into the sunroof, down the three stories to the marble floor and the small army of bad guys below.

Maybe the total numbness was a blessing because the unexpected tackle knocked the wind out of him, taking any fight out of him. At the moment, the man still clung to him as they both fell unceremoniously into the chandelier, which nearly knocked him out. He was fairly sure he broke something in the fall, and for some reason, everything started to have a red glow to it. He couldn't even remember how to breathe. On the upside, he never recalled the impact to the floor. He wasn't able to move quickly enough to avoid the onrush of blows that followed his entrance. Alarms and lights started sounding and he wasn't sure if the blaring was outside or inside his head.

Somehow, he had managed to get up. If he was going to die, he would die fighting. He wobbled back and forth, blocking blow after blow. His vision was blurred, but he swung and kicked at anything that came within range. "I wish I had help now," he heard himself say as his foot connected to another man's jaw.

That made it three men down and 20 or 40 more to go. He really couldn't tell because some of them seemed to fade in and out of his sight. Twice, he kicked out his foot and missed the men completely. Unfortunately, the men connected with solid hits to his rib cage and three more good blows before he closed his eyes and swung. Strange, but he was finally able to deflect a real fist from a real person, and not a ghost that he thought he was seeing but was really not there. He thought he heard Babs say the cops were on their way and to get out. It sounded like a great idea, but suddenly the room filled with a brilliant light. Then something seemed to explode outward with a force he had never felt before, and everyone in the room was tossed about like rag dolls.

He wasn't sure how long he was out, but he could hear the sirens closing in. He looked up to find a blurry vision of a beautiful woman with eyes of blue staring down at him. Her auburn hair was trussed in a braid, laced with leather tresses and feathers tied tightly behind her pointed ears. The bright light faded behind her. "Wow, an angel . . . " he thought, " . . .a Vulcan angel." His Vulcan angle was dressed in a tunic of hunter green and leather pants that would have made Mr. Spock blush. Her chain mail linked loosely over them, and she wore a cape of heavy wool.

"Live long and prosper," he giggled, accepting the strong possibility of the hallucination being caused by the injuries he had sustained. "But first I have to get out of here or there is going to be big problem."

He tried to move, and the world seemed to come to an abrupt halt, then started spinning in a new direction. "Ooohh . . . or maybe you should just beam us up," he mumbled as he began to fall. It was then that he realized the hallucination caught him and guided him back against the wall. "You're real?"

"As are you, I suppose. I am S`lea of Meric, Royal Knight to . . . "

"Look, we'll have time for introductions later. We need to get out of here. Those guys aren't going to like finding me . . . us here."

"As you have called me here, I will do as you wish. As long as your cause is just, it will become mine. As for those who hunt you, by my honor as a Royal Knight of Meric you will not be harmed further. I shall decorate the castle with their heads," the "angel" announced as she drew her weapon, a large sword she had kept strapped to her back. "They will die this night."

"Whoa! Unless you can set that thing on stun . . . " he yelped weakly, trying to hold onto her so she wouldn't attack the cops. "Please put it away. No, no . . . killing. We're on the same side. Really! It's just they can't find us, or I'll be in trouble." He struggled to stand, mostly being held up by this blurry female version of Mr. Spock. "Please . . . promise me . . . no killing . . . just help me . . . help me get to the roof . . . I've got to get to safe . . . ty." He tried to lift his arm to shoot off a jumpline, but he had no strength left. He just collapsed in her arms.

She stared out at the strangely colorful lights that flashed through the windows. Someone yelled, "Come out with your hands up, or we'll send in the dogs!" She stared at her surroundings and at the unconscious men around her, as well listening to those making threats outside the unfamiliar lodging into which she had been brought. Then she looked up at the broken crystal-like ceiling that "was as almost as high as the castle wall of Meric itself," she whispered as she set her new charge down.

"I do not think these are the people you think they are," she whispered to the limp figure that lay at her feet. The sounds of angry hounds filled the doorway. "It would have been easier to fight." She raised her arms over her head and brought them down slowly to her sides. As she did, the area around her began to engulf her in a fog. The dogs had been released. They barked incessantly, but were unable to penetrate the fog. Suddenly, there was a screech, and a great force of air broke through the wall of fog. With a yelp, the dogs turned tail and ran back out the way they came.

"What the hell?" growled a shabbily clad cop in an overcoat. "Commissioner, we're going to have to use gas. They just zapped the dogs or something." Just as he was about to give the order to fire the gas canisters someone screamed, "HOLY SHIT!"

Gunfire erupted from the cops almost instinctively. Above the Museum was a huge beast of mythical size. It screeched with such force that the ground crew had to drop their weapons and cover their ears. The commissioner noticed the creature holding something in its claws. "Hold your fire!" he shouted, grabbing the binoculars from the car.

"What's it got, Commish?" growled the man next to him as it began to fly away.

"Nightwing," he whispered. "Let's get to the station. I've gotta make a call."